Love Letters to Seattle
by twitchytwain
Summary: Grunge Rocker Damon meets music journalist Bonnie for an explosive love affair in 90's Seattle. As Bonnie shadows him for an interview about his life she discovers that his demons might just be the death of her but while he's her temptation, she might be his redemption. Bamon and Kennet (pain is love. Love is pain)
1. Chapter 1

**Nobody dies a virgin….Life fucks us all**

**-Kurt Cobain**

**#**

Bonnie missed New York. She missed the grimy dive bars celebrating Banksy on their graffiti bathroom walls through epic renditions of sex rhymes. She missed the cheesy I love New York logo on those dumb shirts that tourists bought by the truck load around Time Square. She was going to miss foggy Central Park just before sunrise.

"Hey, did you know that they shot Twin Peaks along these parts?" Kol yelled starring into the mirror while he lathered his face with shaving cream. She was going to miss that stubble.

"Just outside Seattle"

"That's great" she muttered thumbing her way through her New York scrapbook. Kol thought scrapbooks were redundant and archaic; she thought they were a nostalgic novelty. They were one of the small girlish pleasures that she would never admit to having, that and her frilly white ankle socks.

"You think you'll start a Seattle one?" he gestured to her scrapbook throwing her a can of beer. They had met through Craigslist three years ago, she was selling her cello and he was looking to buy one.

Kismet.

"What has Seattle done for me lately?" Bonnie scoffed running her thumb along the rim of the perspiring can. They had the heater on because it was drizzling again outside. Kol always defended the petulant rain and the emerald city stating that it was the constant rain that made Seattle so beautiful…so fucking green.

"Yeah, what have those New York subway rats done for you lately?"

"Look at it this way, Seattle gave birth to Jimi Hendrix and Nirvana. What could be fucking better than that?" he talked and she ran her green eyes along the taut lines of his ridged abdomen.

"The bad boys of rock, right?" She watched him slip on a green parka over his denim shirt, his rugged blue jeans riding low.

"What is it about bad boys?" she asked downing a shot of whisky before thumping the glass down on the side table next to her "they do absolutely nothing for me" she said chasing the shot down with a pitcher of cold beer.

'You sure about that?" Kol raised an eyebrow beckoning her with a single finger.

"**Abso-fucking-lutely" **she took another swig of beer before sauntering toward him "you heading out?"

"Yeah, the coffee shop…'have to finish that piece I'm working on"

"Again?" she cocked an eyebrow at him "I thought we'd hang out" she simpered gesturing to the rumpled bed with bleached white sheets that still smelled of laundry-mat-bleach.

"I have a deadline darling," he leaned in closer to her, dipping his head "don't you have an interview to prepare for?"

"Hmm…tomorrow" she moaned, fingers crawling around the back of his neck. Something pulled in her belly like an eight ton truck revving its breaks straight to her gut and she pulled him closer. Bonnie cupped the back of his neck with both hands, her fingers tangled in his soft muddy blonde hair, nails digging at the nape of his neck and then she kissed him. She felt him hesitate at first, his lips closed around her coiling breath and then something in Kol bucked and his mouth opened, his tongue tangling with hers. Their kiss was hungry, needy, wanting and desperate. It was as if he alone could cure what ached in her and she alone could fill what needed to be filled in him.

Kol stopped first, pulling back to take a gulp of beer from her bottle.

"Hey, bring me back one of those sticky maple donuts with lots of bacon!" she called as he grabbed his car keys.

"You got it" he chuckled snatching an untouched can of beer and smiling like a Cheshire cat.

"What no umbrella?"

"It's just drizzle"

Kol winked with a grin before exiting their small apartment.

#

Rain City where plaid flannel and grunge came to die, Damon shook his head swinging around to get a better look at the blonde in torn denim shorts and doc martins. He'd like to be her rain city superhero, he smirked unloading boxes from his rusty old truck.

Thank you New York. My lover and sadist.

Thank you for finally quitting me you jerk ass, he mused lugging his Gibson electric guitar up the stairs to the new apartment. He looked up at the metal sky; the damn rain was coming again. Seattle was a different breed but New York was poison.

An hour later he found himself in Key West mulling over which brand of espresso to order as opposed to the beer his gut was telling him to buy. Thirty minutes later he was sitting in some shitty bar across some crappy gift shop selling t-shirts bearing Kurt Cobain's portrait and drinking beer on tap. He drummed his fingers on the long maple bar top as he waited for the club promoter. The nerves were getting to him; he cracked his neck wishing he had a packet of smokes with him.

He enjoyed his morning cigarette but he'd decided to quit since moving to Seattle. New York quit him so he quit his camel. He was back to small gigs now, no more live stadium shows opening for Pearl Jam. The light rain persisted with traffic a standstill, their gold headlights shimmering in the grey sprinkle.

"Hey mate"

Damon looked up as the owner of the crusty voice slung his gangly arm around one of the bar stools next to him.

"You must be-"he couldn't recall the name but he knew from the unaffected Australian drawl that he was the guy he had been waiting a good hour for.

"Adrian, "he swung himself over the chair settling in beside Damon.

"Good to meet you man, "Damon said offering his hand.

"You ready for your gig tomorrow?'

"Yeah" he replied with a shrug. A gig was a gig, no matter if it was in some small backward bar in Seattle. It was a start. Hell, it was the redemption he needed.

"Welcome to Seattle mate"


	2. Chapter 2

**Excuse me while I kiss the sky**

**-Jimi Hendrix**

He was sweating, palms clammy and fingers jittery as they felt the cords of his acoustic guitar. The bright spot light was searing hot as beads of sweat slipped down his weathered face like acid rain. The crowd waited like venereal gremlins waiting to be regaled.

White white light every-fucking-where, he squinted out to the mob of rock fans and took the biggest punching breath of his rocker life.

Begin. Damon shut his eyes and began strumming.

This was what Rock gods felt like every time they climbed they sky, shot through the matrix. This was it, the thrill of the throbbing audience, the damn lights that spark your insides until you're just a ball of flame…a fucking Halley's Comet. This is what he missed, entertaining an audience that understood the nuances of Rock n roll.

He was contagious, infectious, the perfect disease spreading through the bar like an insidious chemical fire. The guitar riffs sent a surge of rebellion through their rattling bones, creeping into their nerves like a toxic flame. The crowd pulsated, their devil horns in the air as he claimed them. He still had it; he had not lost it yet. Seattle was his salvation.

#

Three-day old beer sweat stench, crusty jockstraps and the damp floors of a backstage dive bar. This was home for Bonnie and a part of her loved it, couldn't imagine anything better than conducting an interview with a band among the fumes of old sodden socks and coconut hair gels. The other part had been looking forward to the Rolling Stone job interview; a nice air-conditioned office overlooking the Broadway theatre would have been a pleasant change from the tedious murk of animal print and leather shimmering under blurred fluorescent lights.

Here she was with no New York and no Rolling Stone just a three year relationship with a man who had not fucked her in weeks.

The sheer beauty of feminism.

"Tuck it in boys, "she yelled guzzling her Starbucks coffee "lady walking, lady walking"

She weaved her way around the sodden bunch of bristly men with tatted bodies and plastic leather grunting like drunken pigs in a pen.

"Which one of you boys is Salvatore?" she asked as her eyes darted around the basic dressing room.

"That'd be him" a husky one spoke up gesturing to the corner of the room with his chin before taking a powerful snort from the jagged white lines on the mirror in front of him.

Bonnie's eyes shot to the corner, to the bulk of lean muscle undulating under a smooth golden skin. Her eyes did a languorous crawl from the sweat speckled pectoral muscles on his hard chest to the taut tendons of his abdomen. His fitted black jeans sagged all the way down to his pelvic muscle and something in her swelled and a strange heat crawled into her cheeks.

"Are you Salvatore?" she asked clearing her throat.

"Who wants to know?" he drawled nonchalantly packing in his guitar, not bothering to look up at her. The affected Southern accent caught her off guard. It did not match his obvious Italian heritage.

"I'm Bonnie Bennett" she said shoving her hand out to him "I'm with the Mainstay magazine"

"The what?" he looked up, blue blue eyes dazzling like a damn cerulean Greek sea as he raked a hand through his damp raven hair.

"Mainstay magazine, it's a rock maga-"

"Oh, never heard of it, "he smirked as his eyes travelled the length of her body, lingering on her sweat soaked cleavage. His eyes sprang back up at her face, lips unfurling into a broad grin.

"I believe we have an eleven o'clock" she said trying to ignore the fact that he was peeling her clothes off with his tormenting eyes, attempting to ignore the fact that she kind of liked it.

"No can do mam, "his voice was a languid drawl as she watched the shrug roll off his broad shoulders.

"No? We had an appointment. I called your agent last week and-"

"I fired my agent this week" he said casually slipping into his white t-shirt.

"So you won't talk to me?"

Great another Neanderthal whose about to get a rude awakening, Bonnie thought rolling her eyes. She was drained and hung over from Kol's beer soaked mouth and a disheveled rocker giving her hell at ten o'clock in the evening was the last thing she needed. She took a deep breath to steady herself.

"I don't do interviews… but dinner, "he winked "now that, I can do"

"Listen Salvatore, you need to be a professional if you want to make it in this industry and refusing interviews is not-"

"Are we done?"

"Actually no, I'm not done" she shook her head, eyes narrowed.

"Cause I'm famished and if you don't want…what's your name again?'

"Bonnie. B.O.N.N.I.E …Bonnie" she said it slowly so that she could het all the vowels out of her dry mouth.

"Bonnie, I'm heading out for dinner" he announced throwing his weathered guitar case over his shoulder "you comin?"


	3. Chapter 3

**If I'm free it's because I'm always running**

**-Jimi Hendrix**

#

It wasn't Christmas season yet but the place was draped with Christmas lights. It was a dingy pit somewhere in Capitol Hill and Bonnie called his bluff before they sat down at the rickety oak bar with broken down seats.

He was used to girls in pink cardigans and fresh pearls who shocked easily. The place probably got him in their white cotton panties faster than you could say three Hail Mary's. The strange allure of the rugged bad boy did strange things to good girls.

**Not this Disney Princess.**

"Make that tequila shot and a boilermaker, "she told the hefty barman after Damon ordered her a pink cosmopolitan.

"What, no fancy pants cocktails?" he teased waggling his pronounced eyebrows.

"And give my friend here a Shirley Temple" Bonnie motioned with her head to Damon winking at the bartender.

"Bottoms up," she tipped her shot glass against his beer bottle before throwing her head back and downing the tequila. She probably shouldn't be drinking, she thought but her boss had been giving her such grief about her assignments that if she didn't pull an ace up her sleeve soon, she could kiss the job at the magazine goodbye. This interview with Salvatore was her last shot at salvaging the failure that Seattle was slowly becoming.

"How about it?' Damon jerked his head to the king sized pool table sitting by the mangy toilet with a big flashing neon sign above it.

"What's the wager?" she asked taking his cue and following him up the small stairs to the pool table. The watering hole was scattered with old comfortable regulars with their warm beer in Styrofoam cups watching televised brawls on outdated monitors.

"How about scotch at my place. Tonight?"

"How about no?"

"Have you been to any of my gigs?" Damon grinned, his eyes doing that lazy crawl thing again, roaming her body like she was a damn lamb at the slaughter. He waited handing her a pool stick.

"No, but I do my research, "she glanced up at him as she set the drink down beside her on the pool table.

"At seventeen you made your debut opening for Oasis," she licked her lips studying the balls first for that sweet shot." And eight years later here you are"

"You sold over a million albums before you left your band to try for a lead act. You don't do pretty notes with pretty lyrics. Your sound is authentic, crusty and gritty, "Bonnie leaned over the green felt table skilfully, and she could feel his eyes burning holes into her ass as she set up her first shot.

"Enjoying the view?" she glanced back, mouth curling in one corner.

"I've seen worse" he smiled clearing his throat before taking a long gulp of beer.

Bonnie sent the balls spinning in different directions, three of them going into pockets. She went in for another shot again, slamming the cue hard against the white ball, missing the pocket as her targeted red ball rolled back to the centre of the table.

"I guess you don't like being in the background" she said watching him take his careful turn at the table and relishing the sight of his sweet tight ass in rugged denim.

"How does a small town boy from Alabama get into Rock music?" she leaned against the broken juke box sizing him up "isn't country your thang?"

"No interview questions" he winked quickly glancing up at her from his angled shot.

"Then why am I here Salvatore?" Bonnie chewed the inside of her cheek digging her heels into the stained red carpet.

"You're here to look pretty and drink beer" he shrugged brushing past her chasing the perfect shot.

That perfect storm.

Bonnie felt something knot in the pit of her belly, a creeping rage as she gripped the pool cue tighter.

**Play nice Bonnie. **

"I'm guessing that your agent was your personality 'cause right now you're just an ass and a hole and neither one look too pretty from where I'm sitting" she finally responded watching him.

Damon took a moment before straightening up and glaring at her through long dark eyelashes. The nerves on his hard jaw balked and then his lips twitched into an unaffected simper as his blue eyes sent electric riffs through her system.

"Here, "she spat taking out a muddy dollar from her purse" next one's on me"

She could still feel those eyes of his follow her all the way down to the creaking double doors of the dive as she walked out

#

He hated seeing her go but he loved watching her leave and if she had not looked prettier than an Arizona sunset, he would have chased her. Chased her and bedded her. Then they would have both regretted it in the morning. He would have been sorry about it because he would've woken up sober and she would have regretted it because with morning comes light and with the light comes the truth and that truth was that he was a miserable bastard with too many voices in his head. Voices that told him to do crazy things like fuck her and leave her. Damon beckoned for another beer and caught a flash of his reflection in one of the bar mirrors. He quickly looked away. His demons hid in those smoggy mirrors and he didn't feel like facing them tonight.

He was scoffing at the miserable idea of going home alone, of not having gone to the after party that miserable club promoter had invited him to when she walked in. She was tall, brunette with legs like a stairway to heaven and the right amount of crazy in her grey eyes. The right amount of crazy he needed to stunt the growing shadows on his bedroom walls that promised to swallow him up any day now.

She was all kinds of right ingredients and Damon smiled beckoning her over with his beer.

"Are you experienced or have you been experienced?" he said stealing one of Hendrix's best lines as he cupped her chin in his warm hand.


	4. Chapter 4

**It's where my demons hide**

**-Imagine Dragons**

**#**

It was a tight squeeze getting into her apartment as something blocked the door. Bonnie pressed her weight against the door pushing it open, mould made the door stick. The dusty floorboards creaked as she finally hurtled inside nearly crashing into a chestnut wood grand piano.

"When did they deliver it?" she asked maneuvering her way around the decaying monstrosity.

"This morning" Kol smiled sitting in front of it, all pink cheeked dressed in a tattered wool sweater and smelling like nutmeg and peppermint mouthwash.

"What do you think?" he asked gesturing to the rotting piano and raking nervous fingers through his messy dirty blonde hair.

"It looks fantastic" she lied leaning over to kiss his warm ruddy cheek. He had the furnace switched on again and so his tanned face was warmer than usual.

"I'm just tuning it" he said smoothing his hands over the ragged ivory keys. Bonnie headed to their small makeshift kitchen to rummage their fridge for a can of cold beer. She pressed the icy metal can against her face listening to the hard pounding rain and Kol's expert fingers dancing over the squealing ivory keys.

"So, what was he like?" he called still playing the out of tune piano.

"Who?"

"Damon Salvatore"

"You mean the artist formerly known as Damon Salvatore. He goes by ass-shit now"

Diving into their warm bed, she wriggled out of her snug grey jeans and pulled her black Beatles vest over her head ruffling her damp hair.

"He looked like an ass and smelled like an ass" she huffed blowing a strand of hair from her face.

"Therefore rendering him an ass" Kol chuckled pushing his reading glasses further up the bridge of his nose.

"Actually, cunt is more like it" Bonnie shrugged wrapping a towel around her honeyed body and Kol cringed at the cutting phrase much to her delight.

"Did you miss me?"

She removed the sheet music book from the piano and sat down in front of him raising the hem of her dove grey towel. Slowly she opened her glossy brown thighs to him, steaming up his glasses.

"I missed you" his deep dimples creased his cheeks as his gaze travelled up her bare thighs lingering on her damp fingers.

Kol reached up to brush the hair from her forehead and she closed her eyes feeling his breath against her cheek. His fingers tangled in her hair as she threw her head back, fluttering eyelashes dusting the top of her cheeks. He held her hair in his hand, coiling the strands in his fingers and pulled her head up to kiss her mouth. His other hand cupped her ass sliding her down so she could seat on his lap and straddle him. He brushed her hair back over her left shoulder and lowered himself to nibble the side of her neck over her throbbing vein.

She wanted to feel Kol's weight on her, needed to feel his skin against her skin. It had been long.

"Not tonight' he moaned softly when Bonnie unzipped his bulging crotch.

"Are we ok?" she murmured against his neck not looking up at him.

"Yeah, it's just this…work…concert stuff"

Kol held her tightly, fingertips caressing her ridged spine. She held her breath combating the tingling desire that charged down her spine. His hands moved slowly from her back to her stiff shoulders, then slid up to her messy hair.

"I promise after all this…"

"I know" she heard the longing in her own gruff voice and swallowed hard fighting back whatever need was curling its way up her tight chest.

"I love you" he whispered kissing her wet eyelids.

"I love you"

**#**

Damon woke up at 3am drenched and tangled in his black sheets. The girl was still there in his bed like an insurmountable life source taking over his bed, his life. She was a fucking apocalypse. He woke her up, called her a taxi and gave her a fare which included what they called gratuity in New York.

"How about an autograph?" she smiled with that same wide mouth that had teased him like an expert only a few hours ago.

"Autograph?" he cleared his throat rolling his baby blue eyes.

"Didn't you used to be Damon Salvatore?"

He hated when they did that. Ignorant groupies were worse than persistent journalists.

"Yeah, used to be" he mocked winking at her.

"Call me, "she murmured pulling out a small brown bag from her small furry pink purse. Damon hesitated as she handed him the heroin. She'd caught him off guard with the bag; he hadn't figured her for a supplier because she didn't quite fit the stereotype of a drug dealer. Pushers did not have warm dipping mouths that did half the things her mouth had done to him. He had to stop pigeonholing people.

"It's a gift, "she persisted until he relented "I had a great time, "she breathed into his ear, her nails digging into his bare back as he held the elevator door for her.

There's no such thing as a free lunch, Damon thought watching the metallic doors close, the bag warm in his hand.

After she left with her cloud of lust his insomnia came again and he sat up in his bed watching as the shadows scaled his rum bleeding walls. Damon could still smell her fruity scent in the tangled sheets. There was a new smell now too, the one he was trying hard to ignore…to resist. It smelled like a strong chemical cleaner or the smell of burning plastic after an electric thunderstorm. He had missed that smell. He hated that smell. Heroin, his dragon.

He finally gave up on chasing sheep and avoided chasing the dragon by meandering around the apartment eventually finding himself in front of the bulky computer. He knew why he was there starring at the blue monitor. Damon had been thinking about her all night. He slowly typed the name on the search engine and waited for the site to open, Mainstay Magazine.


	5. Chapter 5

**That which you fear the most can meet you halfway**

**-Pearl Jam**

**#**

He woke up with the devil calling his name.

The ferocious grind of garbage trucks driving up Elliot Avenue shook him first before the shrill peal of the telephone in his bedroom. Damon peeled open one crusty eye looking around the murky room. The drapes were drawn but a splinter of silver light cut through reflecting off a mess of beer cans on the table. Motes of dust danced soberly in the filtered trace of sunlight, slowly spinning onto the hardwood floor. He'd crashed on the couch because he hadn't been able to stand the creeping shadows and the grapey stench the girl had left on his sheets.

"This better be good, "his voice croaked into the receiver after he had peeled himself off the sofa and slithered into the dank bedroom.

"I heard about your gig last night."

It was his old manager in New York, the same one who'd ceremoniously dumped him after that hotel room fiasco. The hotel room tragedy that had robbed him of his career, stripped him of his spirit and left him a bottomless hole. It bruised his ego to admit that his bandmates had dismissed him so he lied and told people he had fired his manager. It sounded better.

It also absolved him of his guilt about the girl and that fateful night.

"There's a band down there, "Neil continued "they're looking for a bass guitarist"

"I'm not interested ma-"

"The band's Restless Soul"

Damon paused, his mind reeling with shock…then doubt. He had grown up listening to the notorious grunge rock band, heck he even had gritty posters of them on his walls. Restless Soul had been his alchemist. Neil had to be mistaken. He was a nobody, a hack, a has been trying to find salvation in the Seattle rock scene. He was not Restless Soul material.

"Damon, you still there?' Neil cried over bustling traffic.

"Yeah, "he replied his voice still raspy from shock.

"Grab a pen; call the guy when you find the time in your hectic schedule"

Damon didn't miss the sarcasm in Neil's voice. He followed the orders begrudgingly scribbling the number down on a takeout napkin, not sure he wanted to join a band so soon after New York. He hung up, rubbed the sleep from his worn-out eyes and then he saw the brown bag again. He licked his chapped lips and scrubbed his hand over his bristled chin trying to distract his wayward thoughts.

Heroin was a higher calling, a fuck you to reality and a dream within a dream. He knew that he could do it, right then and there he could strap up, find a vein and juice himself up till he was lying down in a happy yellow sunshine puddle.

Neil was right; he needed to get the monkey off his back. He got up, ripped the sheets off the mattress and hauled the bare thing into the lounge living the base standing in the bedroom. Damon proceeded to stuff the dirty sheets and his filthy laundry into two green duffel bags.

It was bucketing again. The rain drops bounced off his truck, mud sluicing down the cracked windscreen. His screeching wipers flooded dirt in an uneven wash on the foggy glass. He braked for an elderly couple waddling across the wet road, trying to toddle in between the raindrops.

He was loathed to admit it but he was lonely.

Maybe what he needed was a pet, like a cat. He needed a feline with eyes as green as those misty evergreen trees shimmering in the rain to his left. Perhaps he needed a kitten with eyes as green as that Mainstay magazine lady, Bonnie something. He cracked his neck as a smirk curled across his flushed face. Say her name Damon Salvatore, he told himself. He'd looked at it long enough to recite it like a prayer.

Bonnie Bennett.

Bonnie Bennett, the minx with wild evergreen eyes.

#

Bonnie had always had a thing for musicians since that time in the fifth grade musical when Jeremy Gilbert had sang Led Zeppelin's _**Since I've been loving you**_ while starring down at her the entire time. He had been her first love up until he kissed some blonde blue-eyed cheerleader behind the bleachers after a home game. Then there had been that unfortunate incident with a tuba player during senior year and by the time she carted off to college in New York she had put off dating musicians forever.

Forever didn't last that long.

She watched Kol over her morning coffee as he packed his sheet music in his brown leather satchel. He was always pensive when he was preparing for a piano recital, always trying to surpass his last concert and attempting to prove something to himself. Bonnie knew that he was trying to prove himself to his father Mikael, another Julliard alumnus. Kol never talked about him but Bonnie had picked up the tenor of the relationship in their eclectic conversations about each other's childhoods. She had never met Kol's father and she wasn't sure she wanted to.

So now she was here, having moved to damn Seattle because of Kol. He was her only family since her Gran died.

"You going to the office today?"

"Yeah, "she nodded taking a sip "I have to write that Salvatore review and hand it in by noon"

"Ouch"

"I'll be gentle, "she chuckled "I'm over it. I listened to his gig last night and he wasn't half bad...maybe great"

"So you don't think he's a see- you- next- today anymore?'

"I love your filthy sailor mouth" Bonnie teased pulling him by his denim shirt, kissing him so that he could savour the lingering trace of coffee in her mouth.

"He's still a chauvinistic ass but who cares, aren't all those rocker flunkies fallible?" she smiled brushing his cleft chin.

"Guess you don't hold him accountable for that overdose incident?" he asked with a wink and a dimpled grin as he tucked himself into a frumpy tweed jacket that screamed piano geek.

"Alas, "she shrugged "that is a truth we'll never know. Apparently that question is off limits during interviews"

"And since the two of you get along like a house on fire, you won't be getting any interview any time soon"

"C'est la vie "

"Later," Kol pressed his moist lips to her forehead before exiting the apartment, living her glaring down at the piano hindering any graceful movement in their tiny apartment. She took a deep breath, finished her coffee and packed their dirty laundry into black refuse bags.

She planned to pass through the laundromat before facing Christine's wrath about the Damon Salvatore interview that would never take place.


	6. Chapter 6

**All I want is someone I can't resist.**

**I know all I need to know by the way I got kissed.**

**-Aerosmith**

#

"Shangri-La"

Damon read the beaten old neon sign swinging in the wet breeze as he climbed out of his muddy truck. You had to love Seattle for its originality; he chuckled shaking his head as he unloaded the worn duffel bags from the back seat.

"Shit!" he muttered as he stepped on a pile of dog shit, the rain pelting down on his head. Jogging into the Laundromat, he weaved his way through the parked automobiles. The thick cigarette smog was the first thing to assault his dulled senses followed by the slow buzz of a heated fluorescent light and the insistent drone of washing machines. His eyes skittered to the dented vending machine selling two dollar beer in Styrofoam cups.

Fucking Nirvana, he beamed.

"Hey, "

A fleshy redhead greeted him as he made his way to one of the snort-green washing machines holding a corner in the small Laundromat.

"Hey"

Sheer mesh tops were God's greatest gift to mankind, Damon grinned observing her glorious chest under the stretched fabric. Mesh t-shirts and lycra miniskirts, he thought as his cobalt eyes trailed further down her alabaster thighs to where her stubby painted toes wriggled inside ill-fitting platform sandals.

"Spare some change?" she flapped her blue eyelashes at him and Damon fingered his denim pockets in a weak attempt at chivalry. The girl dropped the coin as soon as he handed it to her then slowly dipped down to pick it up from the blanched floor. She was on a full on mission. He tried to look away, he really did but when he caught a glimpse of a pink puckered nipple his eyebrow vaulted at the obvious bait.

Another angel of the morning, he mused as she grinned rising from her scintillating squatting position.

"Thanks" she said nearly toppling him over as her knees tangled with his. Damon grabbed her in the ensuing confusion, his hands like missiles seeking her heat.

The doorbell echoed as his spine cocked straight up like a kid caught with his pink plump hands in the cookie jar. He looked up as the doors swung open, a gulf of wet wind wafting inside the place. His eyes widened, pulse raised and one corner of his mouth turned up into a teasing grin toying with his lips.

It was her, his Evergreen.

#

The neon sign still managed to blink in the drizzle as Bonnie pulled in the parking lot with shiny her red Mazda. She had consoled herself about the Salvatore interview, assuring herself that Seattle was brimming with young musicians waiting to be discovered. She would catch her big break.

Watch out Rolling Stone magazine.

She promised herself that she would get a nice expensive bottle of red wine and cook something special for Kol that went beyond fried chicken and collard greens, maybe even buy one of those girly magazines with back pages crammed with useless recipes.

All was right with the world.

"Bonbon"

Her green eyes sprang up at the sight of Damon Salvatore tangled in an awkward embrace with a redhead in nine inch platform heels. Bonnie rolled her eyes, bit her tongue and tried not to be hypercritical. Misery loved rock stars and groupies loved company even in the most inauspicious of places like a kitsch Laundromat with cheap beer served in wonderfully grimy Styrofoam cups. She immediately chastised herself for labelling the poor woman as a groupie.

"Of all the Laundromats in all the towns you walk into-"

"Save it, Bogie" Bonnie said lugging her laundry over the centre table.

"Ahemm…." The woman cleared her throat motioning to Damon's hands gripping her overflowing breasts.

"I think she wants her breasts back, Damon"

"Sorry, sweetheart" he simpered peeling himself away from her and sauntering over to Bonnie.

"What, rock stars do their own laundry now?" she arched an eyebrow at him, taking in his dark ruffled hair and distressed jeans. .

"What's the pay for media vultures nowadays?" he leaned over the table, head tilted so he could watch her through his dark eyelashes.

"Do you even have health insurance?"

"Do you?" she said gesturing to the flaming redhead who was still giving her the evil look behind her stack of leopard print lingerie.

"Girl on girl hate, sexy" he chuckled circling his way around the table.

"In your dreams"

'I could offer you a lucrative position… as my laundry mistress" he leaned closer brushing the shell of her ear with his lips "it's got great benefits"

"I'd rather die of syphilis"

"Been there, done that" he shrugged "would strongly advise against it" he added with a wink.

Bonnie tried her level best to avoid him, to simply pretend like he was not there

"I've always been partial to red heads," he announced his heavy lidded blue eyes roaming her face, from her curious chin to her wide-set green eyes and settling on the chestnut curls tumbling down her back. "But there's something about brunettes"

"Euw, "she sneered looking him over "just euw"

"Really, that's the best you can do?" he asked "euw, what are we, five?"

"You think you're funny, right Salvatore?"

'I think I'm adorable"

"What do you want?"

"You don't like me very much?" He cocked his head, peering at her through long black eyelashes "Do you?"

"You're the harbinger of my misery" she responded shoving what little she had unpacked back into the plastic bags.

"Too bad cause I like you"

Bonnie rolled her eyes pushing the doors open and stumbling outside hauling the refuse bags filled with her dirty laundry.

"Get away from me" she yelled as he followed her to her car in the downpour.

"In fact, "he called over her shoulder not bothered by her dismissal of him" I like you so much that I am willing to demean myself, prostitute myself for your amusement" he laughed raising his arms in a dramatic flourish

"Why are you following me?"

"And trust me if I were to rent a gigolo, it would be someone in much better shape" she said stabbing his hard wet chest with her finger.

"I have the stamina of eight Spanish bulls," he smirked, his blue eyes dazzling in the grey sunlight "so I've been told"

"So you've been lied to?'

"Would you like to get on the roller coaster, test me out?"

"I'd break your seesaw"

"Try me" he smiled circling her again.

"B.O.N.N.I.E" he spelled out her name softly, indigo eyes lingering on her wet collarbone.

"Try me Bonnie" his eyes flew back to hers making her heart thud few paces faster than normal.

"Stop following me" Bonnie clenched her jaw, her eyes dragging down to his fingernails which looked like he had been scraping motor oil.

"I'll do it, "he called as she turned around "I will prostitute myself for your tabloid delight"

"Will you do the-?" Bonnie asked, wet hair getting into her eyes and the rain soaking into her skin.

"I'll do your stupid interview" he cocked his head with a grin, the white shirt clinging to him as if it were melting off his skin. Bonnie willed her eyes to stay fixed on his jaw and not to drift to his hard heaving chest now that he was practically naked in the rain.

#


	7. Chapter 7

**I'm just a musical prostitute, my dear**

**-Freddie Mercury**

#

Wiping the foggy mirror clean with her wet hand, Bonnie ruffled her damp hair and brought her arm up over her head so she could smell her armpit. She was wearing a faded Runaways T- shirt that had been stuffed in her dirty laundry only an hour ago. Excavating through her bag for her trusted red lipstick, she wondered for a minute why she was trying so hard to impress some wild Alabama rock-star who had stumbled into the rock scene years ago. It was nineteen-ninety seven and grunge music was slowly dying out and with it the likes of Damon Salvatore. Pressing her lips together, she dabbed the corner of her mouth with a tissue before sucking in a sharp breath and shutting her eyes.

Growing bolder with every breath intake, she crumpled the ball of tissue and threw it into the trash bin making a half-court shot.

"**Bam!** Knicks got nothing on me" she laughed throwing her head back and rotating her stiff neck. She had this, wild butterflies in her belly or not, she had this.

When she finally exited the toilets, she found Damon sitting comfortably in a corner booth with his long legs propped up on the table and his finger drawing circles on the trail of salt he had made on the red table top.

"You look… _pretty_" he smirked waggling his eyebrows as he dragged his eyes over her sloppy band t-shirt and jeans combo.

"Do you put hot sauce on everything? "Bonnie collapsed on the red leather seat opposite him as he began to turn his grits red with glistening sauce.

"Yes, mam"

"Guess you can take the boy out of the South…" she rolled her eyes, raised an arm and sniffed her armpit before setting her tape recorder on the table.

"Pretty much, "he said with a mouthful before adding, "guess you can take the girl out of the Bronx…"

"Me, the Bronx?" she shook her head knocking back a whiskey shot "not a chance"

"Well, if it quacks like a duck…"

"I'm not from the Bronx"

"Thought you were a former New Yorker"

Bonnie narrowed her eyes trying to remember when exactly she had divulged her life story to him.

"I also did my research" he winked as if reading her muddled mind

"Well you got your wires crossed; I wasn't born in New York" a wry smile twisted her crimson lips.

"Yeah, we're all implants…what's your lie?"

"This is about you remember, you're the big rock-star celebrity"

"Now, "she drew in a deep breath and lifted her shoulders "When did you first fall in love with rock n roll?"

"That's it? That's your big opening?" he chuckled looking at her with dizzy sea blue eyes, the nerves on his jaw ticking.

"Just answer the question, Alabama"

"When did I first fall in love with rock n roll?' he smirked into his glass rattling the crushed ice around in it.

"When I first heard Iggy Pop on stereo, my brother and I would sneak the radio into our-"

"Barnyard?" she chuckled allowing the whisky to ravage her throat.

"You're adorable," he winked before he continued "we'd sneak this tiny portable radio with this sad broken antenna and crouch under our bed listening to the late night show playing Iggy and the Rolling Stones"

"So, you have a brother back in Alabama?"

"I used to…" he mumbled shifting in his chair and Bonnie felt the mood change.

"What are your dreams?" she thrust her chin, plodding along with a shrug in her shoulder as she took in another unwarranted shot.

"Legend…I don't know"

He ran a hand across his face, peering at her between his fingers. Bonnie stalled watching him.

"Who are your musical influences?"

"Jimmy Page, Paul McCartney" he replied with a shrug followed by a hint of a smile.

"What's next for you?"

"I don't know and I don't care"

He answered pouring himself another stiff shot of whisky before tossing back the drink.

#

Damon was a fake, a phony, a pretender and he loathed himself more the more he responded to her questions.

He didn't care.

OF COURSE HE FUCKING CARED! Why move to fucking Seattle? He fucking cared about the music, he fucking cared about his artistry, and he fucking cared about being a fucking legend. He fucking cared about still having it and making it. He was only alive when he was on that stage, only alive when his demons didn't keep him awake at night. They stayed away when he was sweaty, happy and spent on stage sweat, spent on guitar riffs, whisky stains and lipstick stains.

Damon Salvatore was only alive when he knew that his art, his music was making a difference in the world, when he knew that he wasn't wasting his good shit away jerking off in front of some computer screen in Middle America caught in the matrix.

You don't come back clean from that regret shit, he knew that. As a Buddhist he believed that the mistakes you made in this life carried on to the next, you carried your debt from this life to the next and the thought of not living up to his expectations kept him up most nights.

His Karma was the monkey on his back.

He took another swig of whisky; lips wound around the bottle this time and watched her.

She was flustered, ruddy cheeked with damp hair and talking faster than she probably realized but for once he didn't care. He liked the stupid gold rhinestones on her pretentious Joan Jett t-shirt, he liked her messy curls tumbling around her uneasy shoulders and he loved the way she took her whisky shots in an obvious attempt to show him up.

She was Joan Jett without the guitar, Janice Joplin without the gin voice, hell she was an angel without the ridiculously epic white wings. This Evergreen didn't need showpieces or dancehalls; she did not need the bravado. Damon thought she was real and that was good enough for him.

"Hey," I have an idea; he heard his crusty voice speak up against the diner crowd noise "I'm auditioning for Restless Soul in a few weeks' time. Why don't you shadow me?"

"Shadow you?"

"Sure, write an in depth piece. It would be about Restless Soul of course. Yada yada…the epic romance of grunge music"

"The epic romance of grunge music" she repeated biting his bait.

Definitely better than raspy Janice Joplin, this girl was going to be epic. Epic for him anyway.


	8. Chapter 8

**And so the castle made of sand slips to the sea, eventually**

**-Jimi Hendrix**

#

Kol's nimble fingers danced across the black and white piano keys, leaping over the keyboard. Bonnie held her breath as the savagery of his tune plucked her gyrating nerves. He wasn't playing fairy dust notes but every stroke was drenched in striking agony. He was beautiful when he played like that, every note soaked in his sweet sweat.

When he finally paused to study his sheets and relate back to the small blonde in a tightly fitted pencil skirt leaning over the grand piano, Bonnie waved.

Climbing down the small stairs, he waved back as an infectious dimpled grin spread over his flushed face.

"You smell like a brewery"

Kol moaned when they hugged.

"You like?'

She teased as her arms snaked tightly around his waist. Feeling Kol's heat through his damp denim shirt, she wound herself tighter around him and he cupped both his hands around the back of her neck.

"You do know that being a music journalist doesn't require you to live the debaucherous life of the artists you interview, right?" he said gazing down at her with the bright strobe lights catching in his whiskey coloured eyes.

"I know but its fun" she chuckled huskily while cupping his ass with both hands.

"Who were you cornering today then?"

"Alabama"

"Alabama?"

"The one and only Damon Salvatore"

"A pet name for your rockstar? "He grinned cocking his eyebrows "Darling, should I be worried?"

"Come on, I wanna celebrate"

"What are we celebrating?"

"An exclusive with Mr Alabama himself and possibly Restless Soul"

"Yeah, you got it?"

"Yeah, I got the exclusive"

"Nobody can say no to you, can they?"

"You seem quite capable, "her voice caught in lust as her hands grabbed his swelling crotch "on the regular too lately"

"And speaking of, "he glanced back toward the stage "I gotta go back to rehearsals"

"Uhmm…" he broke her speech with the soft groan of his warm mouth slanting over hers.

"You suck!" she exclaimed spanking his ass as Kol scampered off toward the platform.

########

"How's Seattle, cupcake?"

"It was damp, dull and dreary up until today" Bonnie shrugged, pulling out a bottle of red wine from her grocery bags.

"I know, I'm your big ray of your sunshine" Katherine chuckled softly on the other side. Bonnie pictured her slouched on her sofa buried in albums she was reviewing for Mainstay Magazine's Manhattan office.

"Yeah, "Bonnie rolled her eyes struggling to remove the cork from the bottle "I'm referring to the Restless Soul interview that I just scored"

"I hate you!"

"How's Kol coping with his looming concert?"

Bonnie paused listening to her boyfriend playing an out of tune _unchained melody_ in the next room.

"You know how he gets"

She finally managed to pull out the cork and collected two glasses from the top cupboard.

"Hmm he must be extra antsy this time then"

"Why is that?"

"You don't know?"

"What is it Katherine?"

"His brother has a concert there in Seattle in a few weeks"

"What?" Bonnie shook her head "Kol's show is in a few weeks"

"Hey, no love lost between brothers right? I wonder if the great Mikael Mikaelson will be making a turn to Emerald City"

"Which brother is it?' biting her lower lip, she poured a generous amount of merlot into each glimmering glass.

"The incredible piano maestro himself, Elijah Mikaelson"

Bonnie stood in the kitchen a while longer starring at the cordless phone resting on their pinewood table while the rain persisted outside.

"Kol," she began leaning against the doorway "that was Katherine…"

"Not now Bonnie, "he replied with a quick glimpse over his shoulder.

He knew that she knew.

Strolling over to him, she placed her hands on his stiff shoulders and his muscles pulsed beneath her bare palms. Kol held her right hand and pulled her round to him so that she could seat on his lap.

"The wine's ready, "she curled her fingers into his soft hair motioning toward the kitchen.

He kissed her shoulder whispering, "I love you."

#

A week later, Bonnie was standing at the back of another rehearsal hall tugging on Damon's flannel sleeve as they watched Restless Soul live on stage.

"_**I-feel-the walls are closing in, need you to-feed-my-pain cause you're my gasoline-want you to burn me babe!"**_

"_**I-can-just levitate-your psychedelic eyes-they feed my pain!"**_

He was phenomenal, Bonnie thought as they stood watching Alaric's guitar riff. His crafty hands teased the chords fretting each string with his skilled fingers. As the guitar mewled, Bonnie swore she saw a small tear in the corner of Damon's closed eyes.

Bonnie and Damon made their way to the front of the hall as the band assembled at the bottom of the stage.

"Thanks for coming, buddy" He nodded rapping his denim with his calloused knuckles.

"Alaric, "Damon stammered, the words falling from his chapped lips.

Ruffling his dark curls and popping the collar of his black denim jacket, the smallest one grinned at Bonnie.

"I'm Enzo" he said gruffly taking her hand to his lips, his gaze fixed on her as he pressed his lips to her warm palm. Bonnie's stomach dipped as she snatched her hand back from his fierce grip.

"Music doesn't lie"

The last band member called as he took giant steps toward them. He was rugged in a distressed leather jacket, his sandy hair long enough to curl against his tanned neck.

"You must be Damon Salvatore, I'm Mason"

"Mason Lockwood, I know" Damon replied sheepishly, his lips curving into a deeper grin.

"This is Bonbon, "Damon offered when Mason began examining her face, his misty-blue eyes drifting to her Pink Floyd t-shirt as if studying the patterns stretched across her chest.

"Bonnie, "she corrected him with a nudge to his ribs "I'm Bonnie Bennett" she said realizing that she had been holding her breath the entire time. There was too much distressed leather and testosterone in the room and it was making her dizzy.

"Is she yours?" Mason asked scooping up an electric guitar and handing it to Damon.

"I'm a music journalist and I don't belong to anyone" Bonnie spat turning a light shade of crimson.

Enzo shrugged taking out a ripe red apple from his jacket pocket "Think I would have preferred a groupie, mate" he said as he began peeling its glossy skin with a switchblade, the knife blade flickering in the sunlight. He bit into the fruit, its juice sluicing down his bristled chin as his dark eyes stayed locked on her. Moving closer to Damon, Bonnie folded her arms and dragged her curious gaze back to the dishevelled band leader with salt and pepper hair.

"Rock n roll is freedom" Alaric declared folding his arms as he sauntered to the back row seats.

"Come on buddy," he motioned for Damon "show us what you got"

Bonnie's eyes met Damon's as the song began.

#


	9. Chapter 9

**I'm deeper than the shit I'm in and I don't really give a damn**

**-Iggy Pop**

**#**

This shit was real. They were real.

They weren't action figures, Rock gods stuck behind the gritty pages of a magazine poster hanging on his bedroom wall. They were here, now and waiting to be bedazzled by him.

Damon raked his trembling hand through his dishevelled raven hair. His lips parted for a well-rehearsed speech but as his heart collided with his ribcage, the air trapped in his throat. He moved around the stage trying to loosen his limbs, trying to alter his body chemistry to match the new milieu.

His eyes locked on Bonnie's in attempt to anchor himself.

Someone cut the lights and it was just him, his wheezing chest and the swallowing darkness. Flipping the white electric guitar around, he untangled its wires then tightened his grip around the neck of the instrument as the spotlight sprang to life. That nauseating, white burning light he loved and hated with the same glorious intensity.

_Damon left. Damon didn't live here anymore._

Whatever remnants of the soul left behind exploded and his demons took control. They fed their hunger with his pain, his supersonic riffs and the rushing blood in his sweet pumping veins.

_Damon left. _

The devil breathed fire into his bones, elevated his spirit and spit an igniting flame into his rasping voice. He was the prodigal son, here and now, taking and giving equally. When he was done and spent on the drug and his rush, he stood drenched and soaked in his power, his acrid sweat.

"Great, buddy!" Alaric yelled from the back of the cavernous hall. Damon squinted out into the darkness, hand over his narrowed eyes.

"Now, try it without the fucking antics!"

"Give it to me raw, stripped…let me see _you_"

Bottom lip gripped between his teeth, he poised his shaking sweat soaked fingers over the waiting cords. Waiting for something but he didn't know what.

A hard, quaking ache ripped through his belly and shot through his heart, a pained growl pushed through his lips as he began the bloodcurdling act of singing from his gut. He shut his eyes and the song came. It was something familiar like the security blanket he had shared with his brother back in Alabama.

"_Love, soft as an easy chair…"_ somewhere he chanted, somewhere Damon rasped and stroked that aching guitar. He sang clean, he sang blue and he sang tough. He crooned like a man with grit as his mother used to say.

"…_.Love, ageless and evergreen… Seldom seen by two…"_

He sang for her, he hummed for his mother.

Damon laughed. He screamed. He came. He cried.

When he opened his eyes the hall was quiet and then slowly the sound of singular applause filled the hall. Damon simpered when he saw Bonnie clapping for him. He beamed and then laughed. It was all so damn fucking beautiful that it made his eyes water.

Floating down the small side steps, he flew off the stage as Alaric took wide strides toward him. His hero was smiling and this was a good thing, Damon thought swinging the guitar.

"That was beautiful man, gay but beautiful" he laughed tapping Damon's shoulder. "You actually made Barbra Streisand rock!"

"Not bad, mate" Enzo offered, a lit cigarette slumping from his slanted lips as he rose from his chair. Damon took the compliment because he figured Enzo was not the type to dish them out readily.

A hulking Lockwood dove into Damon with a gruesome bear hug "great job, buddy" he yelled before slapping his hand for a fat high five.

"Thanks, "nodding sheepishly, Damon stepped back away from the lime light and waited for their verdict. His heart was beating faster than a cocaine aficionado's after an anxiety binge.

Stop. Slow. Breathe.

"Great set buddy, "Alaric offered him a handshake "We'll let you know"

Damon smiled through the deafening sounds of his shallow breath.

"Yeah' he managed grinning through his onrushing cardiac arrest. They pat his shoulder, tapped, touched knuckle to knuckle like a brotherhood and then left him there, standing outside in the grey wet rain.

At least he was standing with her. Avoiding her eyes, he pulled out a ratty old beanie from his back pocket and slipped it on his head.

"You were on fire out there, "she smiled punching him lightly on his chest.

They stood for a moment outside, the rain pelting down on the heads.

"I have a bottle of tequila at my place" he grinned, eyes drifting to her fingers as they toiled with her zipper. It was a sucker bet, Damon knew this before he spit the rhyme reeling her in with a tired line.

"I have a cocktail dinner with my boyfriend" she said stepping back and pulled her hair into hair into a sloppy ponytail that only seemed to add to the charm of her face.

"And…she drops the bomb" Damon chuckled ruffling the hair peeking out under his beanie falling over his forehead. "Is he a sunset guy?" his voice was soft and lower than he had expected.

"What's a sunset guy?' She squinted up to him, brows furrowed in the silver drizzle.

"That guy you ride off into the sunset with, that guy who rarely lives up to your expectations of forever after"

"He's not sunset guy" she laughed "he's more than sunset guy"

"What guy are you?'

"Sunrise guy" he tossed a shoulder grinning

"Now you're just making this shit up"

"I'm that morning guy you forgot about, the one you took home that one night and forgot about…"

Bonnie bit her lip as if to say something but she stopped herself. She drew her satchel tighter around her torso and glanced behind her signalling to her parked Mazda.

"Hey, thanks for the action" she finally offered with a bashful wink.

"Anytime"

"And congratulations"

"I don't have the part yet"

"Of course you do, "she grinned "You're Damon-fucking-Salvatore"

With that she turned and moseyed to her mud streaked car. Damon watched, hands deep in his pockets and his heart hurtling into his ribcage like freight train.

#


	10. Chapter 10

**Look at the stars, look how they shine for you**

**And everything you do**

**-Coldplay**

**#**

Bonnie stood far from the maddening crowd, observing them like an anthropologist would study the wild behaviours of a barbaric tribe.

The yacht was swarming with philanthropists, patrons of the arts skittering round the deck and dancing under the glittering swirl of voltaic yellow lights draped around the boat. A stir of vertigo crept up in Bonnie again as the yacht tread water. She latched on to a chrome brass railing peering over the water to where the lights danced on the river's surface.

"Hey, are you ok?"

Bonnie glanced back at the blonde, she could feel the urgent heat in her cheeks as bile sprang up her throat.

"Hmm" she responded grabbing the woman's champagne glass and knocking it back in one long glug.

Gasping, Bonnie wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "Thanks, I needed that" she said between coughs.

"You're welcome?" she cocked an eyebrow observing a flustered Bonnie.

"I can't stand boats"

"You're Kol's girlfriend right?"

The rapid change in topic threw her off guard and she found herself nodding vehemently between short gasps.

"Yeah, I'm Bonnie" she finally introduced herself offering the peaches and cream blonde a weak handshake.

"Caroline, nice to officially meet you"

"Same here, you work with Kol right?"

Bonnie remembered seeing the girl a few times carting Kol around or getting him coffee during rehearsals.

"Yep, He's brilliant at what he does" grinning, she draped her flaxen hair over one shoulder and turned her head to look at Kol.

"Yeah, that he is" Bonnie swallowed hard, her spine tingling as her eyes trailed Caroline's dazzling sapphire eyes. They both watched Kol, head thrown back in a pulsating laugh as he stood in the middle of the circle his colleagues had formed, directing his hands in conversation.

He looked alive. He looked happy.

Bonnie didn't talk to Kol for a while, save for the occasional wave from across the bustling deck and she was growing restless. She loathed the pretentious conversations about the rapture of Rachmaninoff's concerto or Beethoven fifth symphony as she ambled her way past the waiters. She snatched a number of sparkling silver champagne glasses and knocked them back with the fluidity of a Russian ballerina.

"There you are darling"

Kol found her by the orchestra drowning in their strained violin chords attempting to drown out the crowd. He looked clean and freshly shaven in a black tuxedo that framed him beautifully. Bonnie let her eyes wander over his form for a moment recalling everything about the day they had met in person, smack bang in the middle of the cheesiest place in Manhattan, the Empire State building.

"Hey handsome" she teased sensing the flush in his cheek s as it spread to his ears.

"I love it when you call me that"

Kol lowered his mouth to the curve of her neck; she swayed to the warmth of his body and wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders.

"I miss you" she whimpered hearing the slight hitch in her own voice as his hands quested to the dip of her exposed spine.

"Hmm…" moaning along the side of her delicate neck, he pressed himself closer to her and the sensation played a teasing tug with her groin.

"I'm bored, when does this shindig end?" Bonnie breathed feeling the air vibrate around them. She felt him pause, his hands fixed around her hips.

Kol pulled back, his dark eyes narrowed "Why do you do that?" he asked softly.

"What are you talking about?"

"Why do you mock my world, my people?" he let go of her now, stumbling back toward the sparkling chrome railings.

"Your people?" she shook her head still flustered with the spell he had cast on her aching groin.

"This is what artist must do Bonnie" he said gesturing with the sweep of his hand to the raucous crowd.

"Right, artist must sell out" her brow furled as she studied him, this version of Kol.

"You don't need to be here, ""if it's such a torturous exercise for you to smile and engage with people then-"he raised his voice, pointing firmly at her.

"I'm here to support you, Kol" Bonnie interrupted with a shrill rasp of her own, giving as much as she had taken from him "I have to be here, isn't that part of my job description?"

"Every-single-thing- in my life has been about supporting Kol" she felt the throbbing vein on the side of her neck engorge with rushing blood as her hands balled up at her sides "Cooking for Kol, pouring drinks for Kol, listening to Kol…"

"I moved to a different city for you!" everything was wheezing around her, a violent heat pulsating through her nerves. "I left my friends for you, here in Seattle I have nothing and no one but you"

"So now I can't complain about this shitty life?" she screamed, jabbing a finger to his chest "This fucking shitty weather?"

"I just have to shuffle and jive and play happy home?"

Kol's eyes did not lose their intensity, his jaw tensed and then he spoke, gently in a barely audible whisper "I have to go, I have to go back to _those people_ and in a few weeks I have to perform for _those people_."

"I'm trying to be an adult here Bonnie"

"When did you change? When did you become this person, this Kol?"

"No more reckless behaviour" he shook his head not listening, not looking at her.

"When did you change?"

"When did_ you_ change?" Kol shot back glaring at her with darkened eyes, his temples pulsing.

"I never saw it, I never noticed" Bonnie jerked back, her throat tightening to the onslaught of things she was feeling. This unsaid and things bottled up since they left NewYork.

"I'm trying to be an adult"

Bonnie's nostrils spayed, her lips curled in disgust and burning contempt "I never noticed. You've changed…so much"

"Seattle has to be different for me"

"When did you change?"

"I have to go"

"Kol" her lips quivered as she watched him dip and fade like the flickering lights of will-o'-the-wisp. Her head spun and her knees shook climbing down to the waiting motorboats swaying in the water next to the yacht. Bonnie watched the dazzling amber lights from the yacht as the motorboat carved through icy water, a cold spray soaking her coifed hair. She sputtered and shook the wet hair plastered on her face.

Now, she really had no one in Seattle.

#


	11. Chapter 11

**This Romeo is bleeding but you can't see his blood.**

**It's nothing but some feelings that this old dog kicked up**

**-Bon Jovi**

**#**

Slamming the empty bourbon bottle on the table and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, Bonnie grinned and turned to the swarthy rake perched beside her. She had ended up in that one place she had never imagined herself going back to. It was like revisiting the scene of a fresh crime. The Christmas lights were brighter than before and the juke box was still not functioning. It was the dive bar of their first would be interview, cranky and filthy like an old drunk.

It was a beautiful mess.

"Cinderella walks into a bar and-"Bonnie yelled through the heavy arcing wails of an electric guitar blaring from the old TV monitors.

"You're drunk, maybe you should go home" Damon said raising a finger to beckon the bartender for another bottle.

"Fuck my home, "she slurred snatching his untouched bourbon shot and grinning like a fool "let me finish my joke"

"More bourbon," he told the barman signalling two shots with his hand.

"Are you trying to get me drunk, Alabama?"

"Obviously, "he grabbed his shot back from her before she could finish it and gulped it down "what else am I going to do with you?" his eyes narrowed, his lips curving into a smug smile.

"Cheers to me, Sleepless and fuckless in Seattle!" she slurred raising her glass and slumping up against Damon. His hide jacket felt soft against her wet cheek, soft and comforting.

"Here Here" he soothed, one hand wrapped around her shoulder and the other wound around his beer.

"How do I look?" she asked suddenly whirling him around in his bar stool to face her. She knew how she looked, ratty hair in a tangle, smeared lipstick and dried black mascara sluicing down her cheeks.

"Like a raccoon"

Bonnie tapped his chair with her foot, slapping him across his hard chest.

"Fancy," he teased "or maybe it's the dress that's wearing _you_" the smile was full, broad and smug.

"You're an idiot"

"So, where are you really from Yankee?"

"Mystic Falls, where the mistletoe is always hanging"

"Hmm…" He looked up at the neon lights hanging above them "there's a thought" he smirked with a wink.

"I'd have to kill you first" she chuckled gently tapping his jaw with her knuckles.

"What do you miss about back home?" Damon winked, brushing away her stinging tears with his calloused thumb. Bonnie's hand sprang up and held his hand in place, his thumb trailing her warm cheek.

"Are you a good guy Damon?" she asked softly, her eyes tracing the lines of his face.

"I'm a bad guy Bonnie, "he replied with a crack in his voice as he dove back into his drink "I'm sunrise guy, remember?"

"Yeah," she murmured shaking her head; shaking the impetuous noise the voices in her head were making "I miss the July fireworks. I miss my band uniform"

"So you were a band geek? I had you pegged as a cheerleader"

"Hmm, smooth…nope, no cheerleaders here?" she chuckled softly looking at him sideways. "I bet you were the star football player"

"Nah, my brother held that title, all American with sandy hair and all" he grinned into his glass "I was the freak smoking behind the bleachers "

"I specialize in freaks smoking behind bleachers" she smiled, her eyes tracing his nose, the furrow between his lips and chin and then back to the beautiful contours of his immaculate lips.

"Why did you call me?"

"I don't know" she croaked watching him over the lipstick smeared glass rim.

"You should go home" he breathed, a languid heat simmering in his indigo eyes.

"Make me"

"Bonnie, you really should" his eyes traced her soft moving mouth.

"And I told you to make me"

"You're drunk" he closed the gap between them, his eyes glimmering like some Greek metal in the flickering dim lights.

"Are you?"

"We should stop"

"Then make me"

"I should take you home" his eyes dropped to her quivering mouth, wet from the liquor.

"Then take me"

"Home"

"Make me" she couldn't move, she didn't want to move as his face leaned in closer to hers, and his warm liquor tainted breath dancing on her skin.

"Take you home?"

"Yes. Your place"

#########

They staggered into his unlit apartment, blue and green neon lights from the streets frolicking on his dark walls like northern lights. When Damon pulled up the light switch, the stark white light blinded them and buzzed in her ear.

"Lights off"

"Hmm, so she likes it in the dark"

"There will be no hanky panky here, Mr Salvatore"

Damon dimmed the lights as she turned her bare back to him. She could feel his eyes on her, tracing the curved line of her ass in the sparkling black sequin dress; they mapped out every soft inch of her as the northern lights played tricks on her glossy skin. Slowly, she peeled off the sleeves then let the dress fall to the floor before kicking it with her stiletto.

"How about some bourbon?" Bonnie requested with a simper over her naked shoulder.

"How about a t-shirt?" he cleared his throat, scratching his stubble jaw as his blue eyes tried to avoid her honeyed nakedness.

"Spoilsport!"

"Cocktease "

He laughed throwing her his old Knicks t-shirt. Bonnie pressed her wrinkled nose against it before sleeping it on.

"No cooties, scouts honour" Damon winked putting his hand over his heart.

#

She wasn't made for untidy rooms and rumpled beds but she looked damn good in his. Her soft hair stirred, a result from the vibration in the walls caused by the elevator rushing from one floor to the next. He found himself smiling, watching sunlight scuttle across her freckled skin as she turned in his bed.

His Bed. His.

His gut tightened with this desperate need to crawl into bed with her, to touch her and to hold her.

To keep her.

Damon regretted not ravaging her the night before, he knew he could have and dammit he had wanted her so much that the thought of it still made his crotch jerk. He couldn't do it though, couldn't disrespect her in that manner. He wished he was the other guy, the one she had been crying for, the one that she had been trying to forget. The guy that Damon hoped she had already forgotten.

"Alabama, "she spoke lifting her head and straining her spectacular green eyes to see him.

"Coffee?" he offered, shoving an inky black coffee in her hand. A coffee that he had been holding onto the entire time he'd been watching her.

"I need to go, "she said hoarsely, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and scrambling to her feet.

"You could stay, "his eyes drifted back into the cup, his finger running along the curved rim of the mug "we could grab some breakfast" something clogged his throat as he finished.

"'Thought sunrise guy didn't do breakfast" she chuckled dryly, slipping into her black sequin gown and pulling his Knicks t-shirt over her head, ruffling her tangled hair.

"He could make a few adjustments" he cleared his throat still glaring into the mug.

"No need" she said shaking her head and snatching her shoes and dainty purse.

Bonnie hovered by the open door, stroking a hand down the smooth bark before she looked up at him tentatively with a bashful smile.

"Thank you for last night"

"Anytime"

As she turned, she paused then glimpsed back at him "By the way, this never happened" she winked before heading out, leaving behind her a scent of sandalwood. She didn't smell grapey or sweet and he loved her scent. Damon loved the earthy warmth of it, like freshly cut wood in the middle of an Evergreen forest.

Bonnie was made for Alabama thunderstorms and rock n roll nights.

He must have stood there longer than he realized because the all-pervading peal of the telephone in his bedroom startled him out of his dream. Scurrying back into the haunted bedroom and jumping over the bare bed base, he lunged for the receiver.

"Yeah, "he yelled, his breath hastened.

"Hey Buddy, this is –"

He didn't need to explain, Damon recognized Alaric's gruff voice and his heart began to thud and bang at the walls of his chest like a heavy metal band's drum.

"You made it buddy, you're in the band"

Damon grinned like a hormonal tuba player who'd just lost his cherry to the leggy blond English teacher with the tight argyle sweaters. Alaric was his alchemist.


	12. Chapter 12

**Authors Note: **_**This chapter explains a little bit about Kol and Bonnie's past life together before Seattle through a brief flashback. It also explains why she thinks he's changed if he has. I wanted to write some background about their relationship since we don't have Kol's POV in this fic. (Wink: this fic)**_

_**Note: I apologise to Klaroline fans in advance but this is after all, Bamon and Kennett ; )**_

**#**

Bonnie's old Mazda rocked, rolled down a few inches and stopped, barely hitting the bumper of the mustard sedan in front of her.

"HONK IF PARTS FALL OFF! "Bonnie read the bumper sticker out loud, drumming her red nails on the steering wheel "How I about I honk if _my _life's falling apart?" she said to no one in particular. She was toiling with the buttons of her old radio when a sound startled her, a green and white Seahawks flag skittering and dancing across her dirty windscreen.

She remembered the game that was supposed to be played later in the evening; Seattle Seahawks versus Denver Broncos and she had absolutely no desire to see it which was tragic because the Hawks were having a great season.

Kol had ruined her or she had ruined herself, she wasn't sure which was which. What she was sure about was the fact that she still loved him. What she was also certain of was the undeniable fact that she was exhausted. Bonnie was tired of bending over backwards for him, tired of trying so hard to fit into the impenetrable Mikaelson clan.

She was Bonnie Bennett, a blazing firestorm and to hell with the Mikaelsons if they didn't want to accept her. She squeezed the steering wheel in her hands, pressing her weary head against the wheels frayed surface.

**#**

Flashback

**#**

**Blue Moon, you knew just what I was there for**

**You heard me saying a prayer for someone I really could care for**

**-Nat King Cole**

**#**

_May 29, 1995 _

Martha's Vineyard…

Kol hunkered down at third base in the middle of a sprawling white beach, his muddy blond hair ruffling in the early summer breeze. Slowly Elijah cocked his arm, rolled the baseball with his thumb before pitching a barrelling fastball at Klaus.

"That's it babe, "Bonnie cheered for Kol, hands cupped around her mouth "third base to home plate!"

"Hit it good sweetheart" retaliating back with a peal laugh, Camille brought her hand up to shield her eyes from the buzzing sun as Klaus blasted the barrelling ball with a cracking hit. Klaus sent the ball spiralling through the hissing yellow air right over Marcel's head.

"Marcel!" Rebekah shrieked much to his amusement as he jogged along the spangled sand, kicking white grains in the air.

"Are you listening to the game through that?"

Bonnie wasn't happy at all when she noticed the white wiry cords of his stereo climbing down to his rugged tan Abercrombie shorts.

"Not fair, totally unfair"

"Bloody hell, I don't remember the vineyard being this hot last year" Rebekah blew a blond tendril from her face; kicking a tiffany blue alpaca throw off her leg and watching it fall onto the grey buffed wooden sundeck.

"Who's playing?" Camille asked leaning deeper into the white wooden sun lounger, her long legs threatening to brush the wooden balustrade draped with blue forget-me-nots.

"Who's playing, seriously?" Bonnie pulled down her cat eye sunglasses, spying Camille over them "No blue blooded New Yorker would dare to ask that"

"Technically she's French sweetheart and you know the French, "Rebekah winked before she added "_Chiennes avec la culture_"

"The Yankees are playing, obviously "

"Who's winning? "Bonnie yelled out to Marcel.

"Seattle Mariners!"

After the final out, the girls streamed onto the pearly sand with a chorus of chants and cheers. Bonnie slammed into Kol, clasping her arms around his clammy neck and kissing him.

####

"Haley, would you like a snack?"

Taunting the tall limber brunette, Rebekah proceeded to lick peanut butter off an ornately decorated platinum spoon while Elijah wandered around the kitchen in his neatly pressed khaki shorts and the latest issue of Pianist Magazine.

"She never eats, "she called as Hayley existed "I think it's a ballerina thing"

"I thought she was some hotel heiress or something" Bonnie shrugged watching Camille pour wine into deep glittering crystal glasses, the purple glug gushing in and swirling along the inside of the glass before settling into a shimmering pool.

Jesus, she was a drunk, Bonnie mused smiling to herself and pressing her knuckles to her cheeks as she leaned onto the vast scraped wood table.

"Her family squandered the money and her trust fund with it, poor thing _had_ to marry Elijah"

"Cute t-shirt "Rebekah said, "Is it Elvis?"

"It's Johnny Cash"

"It's _Adorable_"

"Isn't it though?" Bonnie shot back, cocking her head to look at the blonde through her heavy eyelids" I think the crickets are calling you outside"

"Don't mind Rebekah" Camille offered with a generous smile after the younger blonde had left, "she has Daddy issues" she finished with a wink.

"And here I thought she was just being a cunt" Bonnie smiled cupping the wine glass in the warmth of her hands.

"I think the words you're looking for are _Chatte miserable_"

"How did you and Klaus meet?" Bonnie peered at her curiously, draping a grey chunky cable knit throw around her prickly arms.

"We met under a Rembrandt, both being fascinated with the same piece.

"The Anatomy lesson of Dr. Nicolaes Tulp" Klaus contributed as he strolled into the kitchen.

"He, being an artist himself was captivated with the significant piece"

"And she, being a doctor, "Klaus grinned pressing his nose against her cheek "has always been enchanted with corpses"

Camille laughed turning to kiss him.

"And it's not true sweetheart, it wasn't the Rembrandt that won me over"

"There you are darling" Kol strolled in with a glint in his eye and mischief in his dimpled boyish grin.

"Kol, I know that look, "she shook her head giggling and backing away from him before he scooped her up and tossed her spry body over his naked shoulder, squirming and laughing with her fists gently pounding on his tanned back.

He carried her out to the sand, not far from the boathouse. The beach was now pink with the onslaught of a red sunset and the cawing seagulls.

"Kol, what are you doing?" her voice was a shaky rasp, her palms a clammy mess and her curls a tangled sun- soaked –salt-dampened nest. She could feel every gritty sand grain stuck to her feet as Kol kneeled in front of her, a feisty blush of colours frisking with his hair. _He's so all American,_ Bonnie thought as he kneeled before her, blue blood, right down to the star spangled banner tossing in the breeze not far from the winding porch. For a brief moment, fear curled around her belly binding it into a billion topknots.

"Bonnie Bennett, "he grinned, eyes twinkling in that masterpiece of light "darling…"

"Yes, Kol"

"Will you, "he breathed "move in with me?"

"It's been five minutes"

"Who gives a damn, I cannot imagine dining on fruit loops and red wine with anyone else but you"

"Yeah?" she simpered.

"Oh yeah, you're it" he grinned rising to his feet and prying her hands away from her mouth "you're the girl. You're the one" he murmured dipping his head to kiss her giddy smile.

They tangled into each other laying outside on the swaying hammock, his warm fingers coiling into her windswept hair, his soft lips grazing her sweltering forehead. They listened to the merriness of his family inside the cottage, the stereo sounds wafting out into the sea breeze, draping and tingling around them like a warm island spell.

"_**At last…the skies are blue; my heart was wrapped up in clover…"**_

Bonnie closed her eyes to the lazy swaying, draping herself around him, sun-soaked arms and sun-drenched legs and all of her.

"_**The night I looked at you…I found a dream…"**_

Her languid fingers unbuttoned his red tattered Pringle shorts at a snail's pace, soft, dizzy, tipsy and unhurried just like the summer breeze in Martha's Vineyard.

#

**We have both been broken, bent into painful shapes**

**-Amel Larrieux**

There was no more air in their apartment, just fragile ghosts dancing in the wind. Kol looked exhausted and so did she, weathered, drained, spent…done.

"I'm just-"

He spoke twirling his key around his lazy fingers.

"Yeah, I get it"

"You shouldn't have to get it"

She nodded.

"I'm just-" he shrugged again" there's so much going on right now…so much changing and I'm just-"

"Tired" they both said it at the same time and she felt the weight of the world lift off her shoulders.

"I don't know how to stop loving you," he whispered not looking at her.

"I -don't- know- how- not- to- love- you" her eyes fixed on him, stooped and withered.

"You don't have to stop, we don't have to stop"

Someone said and in her fog, she couldn't comprehend who. The phrase lingered…trailing around the room until his voice shattered the air around them.

"We just need to take a break" he said, eyes still fixed on his key.

"That's what they call it," Bonnie croaked back, an empty feeling rising from her knees, surging through her like burning ice.

"I'm being unfair; I've been unfair to you for a long time. Dragging you to Seattle…you giving up Rolling Stone …"

"It was just an interview"

"But you see that's what I mean sweetheart; you're always taking yourself for granted" he looked up now, rising to his tired feet.

"Maybe I've been partly to blame but I need to change that"

"I love you" Bonnie said, not a plea but a statement.

"I need to let you go, "he moved closer, holding her "let you go for now"

"I love you" she repeated shutting her eyes trying to feel him against her, trying to mould his hollowness into something whole.

She was not sure who moved first, who grew bold first but they were kissing. It was a soft searching kiss, teasing at their immortality. Bonnie breathed into his warm mouth, desperate to feel his warmth, desperate to feel his soul palpitating inside of her. The rhythm of his heart understood, his mouth responded, seeking and soothing as it melted with hers. They bodies moulded together, tangling in exquisite agony as he unpeeled her dirty party dress, peeling away the beer and cigarette smell from her. Their scents melted into each other, her bourbon and his matured whisky and cigar smell. He was a dizzy concoction of chocolate and wood, coffee and leather. He was an insurmountable power delving deep into her depth, seeking and soothing. No one had ever touched her like Kol, or felt like him when he was deep in her warmth.

Slowly she unbuttoned his filthy white dress shirt, his hands resting steadily on her hands, their mouths unwilling to part. They poured their hopes and dreams into the kiss, clothes pooling to the floor around them and lips giving and taking. The stifling ache in her chest crawled to her throat, a pulse his hands felt as they cupped the back of her neck, the ache driving into her warm mouth. Kol's lips delved deeper to taste the new sensation, to taste her warm salty tears.

She felt Kol's arms around her waist as he scooped her up and set her on the mattress.

Fingers wound into his soft soft hair, as she kisses him and treasured him. Kol's thumbs fingered her lace panties, easing them down her undulating hips. He tensed when she scraped his bottom lip with her teeth, a sharp groan escaping from his raw mouth. Bonnie was growing impatient, needy and desperate for him. His lips never left hers, always gentle, soothing and pacifying her dull ache. Hooking his hand behind her shaky knee, Kol lifted her leg and pressed her thigh over her left breast. Bonnie's stomach quivered as he slowly eased himself inside of her, gentle and easy as if would break her if he didn't tread softly.

Bonnie rolled over on top of him, her hips dancing, her heart palpating and her mouth hot and wet over his.

"I love_ you_" Kol groaned into her as she came and he came.

He stayed inside her a while longer, limbs entwined, feeling, breathing and listening to their synchronized breathing. Then slowly Kol peeled himself off, his eyes dropping to their clothes strewn on the floor.

She watched him ease each leg into his rumpled tuxedo pants and glide each arm into his shabby dress shirt. He still smelled like warm coffee, vanilla and leather.

"I love you"

Someone said again.

They stood there standing together, one at each end of the cold apartment, each one breathing their own separate air. When she felt like her quivering knees could no longer hold her, Bonnie sank on the bed. She sat with her shoulders hunched up, her hands at her sides scrunching up the cold crisp white sheets that forever smelled like bleach. They smelled of bleach, they smelled of her and they smelled Kol. She would never be able to get that smell out.

When Bonnie eventually looked up from her fog, Kol was gone.


	13. Chapter 13

**The Sun is Gone but I have the Light**

**-Kurt Cobain**

**#**

Bonnie wrestled with her satchel trying to find her padlock amongst the jumble of old takeaway wrappers and lipstick stumps. Her worn floorboards still hugged the place where Kol's chestnut wood piano used to be and she had bought a million scatter cushions to fill up the space. The apartment suddenly felt vast, stark and the rattle of the old radiator kept her up most nights. Bonnie woke up every morning, took a tepid shower, got dressed, forced herself to eat something, went to work and took two glasses of wine before bed every night.

She would survive, she told herself. This would not break her.

Seattle was a peroxide blonde morning with strawberry erections hallucinating in a manic fling. The streets were littered with tourists flocking from gift shop to gift shop dressed in ubiquitous band t-shirts. It was September and Emerald city was jam packed with music fans in town for the notorious music festival.

Someone slammed against her side view mirror as the crowd surged and weaved through standstill traffic scattering toward chilli hotdog stands. Everyone was jittery, anxious about the sudden assault of an Indian summer. As a police car zigzagged through traffic, blue and red lights flashing, her mobile phone vibrated on the passenger seat.

"Kat"

"I do not look sexy in leather in this sweltering heat, Bonbon" Katherine cried over the receiver "you told me Seattle was wet and cold"

"Relax, princess" Bonnie sighed glancing at the review mirror and fluffing up her damp hair "I'll be there in twenty"

###

When Bonnie's little car puttered to a stop, Katherine was leaning outside the airport building blowing smoke rings from her mouth. Ashing her cigarette onto the concrete pavement, she sauntered over to the Bonnie's car.

"Look at you dressed in red," Katherine smirked dragging her eyes over Bonnie's brown cowboy boots, tattered bum shorts and red Beatles vest "Santa's little helper"

"Look at you dressed in skank" Bonnie crossed her arms, leaning into her car "Santa's little-"

"How Kol managed to kiss that potty mouth all these years is beyond me" she laughed scooping up her designer suitcase.

"Hey, watch it sister" Bonnie said lifting up Katherine's hat box "there will be no mention of Kol this weekend"

"Hmm…you can actually smell the sex and tequila in the air"

"What the heck do you have in here, a severed head?" dumping Katherine's luggage in her trunk, Bonnie slammed the thing shut, rocking the rusty car "I thought you were here to work, remember, Cream Magazine…freelance work?"

"All work and no play would make me a dull girl, cupcake"

"Or a dull lay, "Bonnie shrugged smiling "so I've heard"

Snapping forward, Katherine quickly brushed grey ash off her lap as a spiral of smoke still coiled from one hand.

"Hey, watch it!" Bonnie glimpsed at her "this baby's not insured"

"You're dating the son of one of the wealthiest New York families and yet you still drive around in this junk"

"You're as hopeless as a penny with a hole in it" she shook her head hurling the cigarette butt outside the window.

"It's called being an independent female, "Bonnie retorted "and quit stealing my lines, they don't look good on you"

"Red doesn't look good on you" Katherine propped her legs on the dashboard, fanning herself with a _New Yorker_. "Are we excited for this music festival or what?"

"Its work"

"Yes, the strenuous task of working _under _rockstars.

##

Crowds of music fans clamoured outside the bustling arena eager to get in as Bonnie and Katherine braved the dry torpid heat to get inside the venue. They skidded into the venue flashing their laminated all access VIP press tags, doing their best to squeeze through the impatient fans standing in line. After much maneuvering, they were upstairs, watching the concert from a raised platform above the sound equipment. The podium was scattered with VIP's and jaded music journalists. They all shuddered, hearts hammering in response to the snarling skeletal guitar lines coming from the stage. The throbbing fans screamed, cheered as Alaric galloped across the stage belting out a screeching howl.

Bonnie's nerves were pulsing as Damon geared for his solo. She wriggled her sweaty fingers inside her back pockets, took them out and plucked at the gold access wristband before raking them through her wild hair.

_Watch the nerves Bonbon; he's not going to botch it!_

Coming in with his wailing guitar, the crowd chanted and cheered as Damon fingerpicked his strings. His chords gripped the mob, they suckled and they swayed, they stomped and they prayed, they raged as he regaled them with his savage guitar range.

"Christ, he's good!" Katherine yelled next to her, hands gripping the railing.

"Yeah, he's great" Bonnie smiled a sun-baked smile, seared cheeks aching as she licked the wetness gliding down her cheeks.

##

The band dodged the greenroom mob and made like Cinderella hurtling down the back exit to an even more vicious horde. They hurried past screaming fans wailing for the band's autograph and Bonnie felt her heart batter against her chest as someone's elbow bruised her rib, jostling her out of the way to get to the band.

She panicked, heart rate shot right up, dry heat and human stench crawling up the back of her neck, boots sloshing through puddles of shallow mud. She loved the rush of fans panicking for that shot, that picture, that autograph and yet when her chest tightened and the torpid air began to thin around her, Bonnie panicked. She was about to screech a howling scream when she felt someone's warm and clammy hand clamp around her fingers. Her eyes sprang up and in all that chaotic screaming and scratching, she saw Damon smiling back at her.

##

They were sprawled inside an air-conditioned hotel suite with fruit platters and a reckless amount of drugs and alcohol.

Enzo kept ashing his cigarette into the lobster platter, his eyes fixed on the jolly boobs of the porcelain redhead who was busy straddling him. Bonnie watched as a millimetre of black ash fell and coated the pink shell of the fish before her eyes sprinted past to Alaric seated on a meditation pillow rolling a joint. Her eyes hurried across the room to Isobelle, alabaster skin, long dark hair and gorgeous heart shaped face. She staggered into the room, voice hoarse from shouting at the concert. She stopped, swayed and hovered over Bonnie. Polishing white powder off her nose, a vial of Alaric's blood swung around her neck.

"Don't look at me" she told Bonnie.

"I'm sorry" she replied, hands held up and eyes anxious to look elsewhere in the frenzied room.

"I know your type, I know what you think about me...about us" she said making a dramatic arm sweep around the bustling room.

"I'm a junkie, a lover, a fan, a follower; I'm a believer and a disciple. I love rock n roll and rock n roll loves me. Dont fucking call me a groupie because my soul bleeds for rock! What the fuck do you believe in?"

Bonnie's mouth dried up, her heart skipped several beats and she knew right then, she had arrived. Isobelle was Alaric's road wife and if she had noticed Bonnie that meant that she was affecting their space, changing their dynamic. That's all a really good journalist wants, to effect quantum physics.

#

_**Damon POV**_

The bathroom mirror was hazy with all the smoke wafting around in the other room. Damon's vision blurred as someone stared back at him through that gaping silvery hell. He wiped a shaky hand across the mirror before scratching at his stubble chin. The images swam around him as blood welled in his pulsing veins. He remembered taking something from a very generous Enzo to help him with his nerves; he just couldn't remember what it was.

"Damon"

He recognized the voice as she tapped the door lightly, listening for the sound of gushing water from a tap he had opened several moments ago. Her voice snapped him back to reality and he wondered how long he had been starring at his own reflection.

"Yeah?"

"You ok in there?"

Damon opened the bathroom door and found her leaning against the frame grinning like a stoned angel. She had that woody scent again, just like a garden nymp frolicking in a sun dappled meadow. Her fiery green eyes raced around the toilet looking past him

_Damn it, what did Enzo give him?_

"I'm beautiful" he replied knowing fully well that he was grinning like an idiot.

"Where's your shirt?"

"Wet" he slurred motioning with his head toward the sink with running water.

"You sure you're ok?"

"Yes, mom"

"Don't do that"

He'd ticked her off. He winced as her pointy finger jabbed his naked chest. She liked doing that finger jabbing thing, he noted. He liked it, it reminded him of his mother and that wasn't a bad thing in his books. Not a bad thing at all.

"I'm gonna head out"

"Come on, don't do that" he whined wanting to touch her.

"I'm tired, dirty and sweaty. I need to go home"

"What about the band?"

"I was here to work Damon and that's done"

"It doesn't look like your friend is ready to leave yet, "he gestured toward Katherine propped against a corner wall engaged in a furious game of tongue hockey with Mason Lockwood.

"I'm not Katherine"

"There're about to start the firework-"

As he said it, the first fiery rocket shot the moon and everyone ran outside to watch the showcase. The black sky shattered around them, a beautiful kaleidoscope of lights bursting in the sky and lightning up Seattle.

Damon looked over at Bonnie as the rainbow of lights exploded around them. A breeze kicked her tousled hair across her flushed cheeks, his clammy palm slid against her warm palm and his fingers laced through her fingers.

Bold and satisfied, Damon waited with a pounding heart. He waited for Bonnie to kick him in the shin.


	14. Chapter 14

**I made wine from a lilac tree; put my heart in its recipe**

**-Nina Simone**

The first time Bonnie saw the posters she was driving back from the downtown food market with Damon; several days after Katherine had left to go back to New York. The concert banners were mounted high outside Benaroya hall, green and yellow with Kol and Elijah's faces flapping in the wet breeze.

_The battle of the pianists._

Her heart immediately kicked up, sitting up she tucked her hair behind both ears and craned her neck to get a better look at the duo.

"Why don't you roll down the window?" Damon said from the driver's seat, his eyes focused on the florists van in front of them "You'll get a better look"

"I'm good. Thanks"

"That piano music is like from the era of syphilis"

"You're such an idiot; _you're_ from the era of syphilis" she groaned swatting at him with her left hand "you wrote the book on syphilis"

"Oh yeah, you_ invented_ syphilis" a smile tucked at the corners of his lips as he glanced at her sideways, hands fixed onto the steering wheel.

"You're an idiot" she rolled her eyes, fighting the giggle that was bubbling up inside her as she pictured Kol's colleagues discussing Romanov with their serious composure. She held her breathe and raised her chin to restrain herself as blood rushed up to her cheeks. Pressing her lips firmly together, Bonnie glared back at him through big watery eyes.

"_You're_ the idiot" he grinned before they broke out in laughter passing the three blocks that encompassed Benaroya hall. She hadn't even noticed how far they had driven until they were curving up the road to Alaric's buttery yellow Tuscan villa, its gravel driveway fringed with imported cypress trees. Damon's truck groaned to a puttering halt along the crumbling courtyard as the housekeepers rushed out to haul the crates of fruits into the house.

Jenna, Alaric's wife had invited the band over for an Indian dinner and Bonnie had volunteered her services which meant that she could drink and chat in the kitchen while Jenna did everything else. She liked being out of her apartment, it helped her keep her mind off Kol and she found the eccentric group entertaining. Their wild antics were beginning to grow on her.

"You're going on tour with the band?" Jenna asked, hoisting her little blonde girl onto her hip with one hand while she sprinkled a heap of garam masala over a steaming rice pot before setting it aside.

"Oh yeah, looking forward to it!" Bonnie exclaimed, slapping the wooden table with her both hands.

"It's not as glamorous as you might think" Jenna shook her head in wry bemusement.

"Yeah, I still think it will suck way less than my life right now" Bonnie replied, her head suddenly feeling light, she gripped onto the cool timber of the thick table as everything zoomed in and out in dazed spirals.

"Are you ok?"

"Yeah, I've just been feeling dizzy lately"

"Here," Jenna gave her a glass of cold water "I have a great ginger tea, it helps with vertigo"

"No, please. Water will be fine" she protested as Jenna began to toss red pickled ginger and coarsely dried chilies into a brass pan. The smell of chilies drifted into Bonnie's nose and mouth, making her eyes sting. "Ooh, I don't know if Damon's going to eat that, it looks _hella_ hot!"

"You should give him a chance" Jenna said looking up at her with a bemused smile.

"Who?"

"Damon, I see the way you look at each other." she threw cauliflower florets into a mixture of fried lentils and chopped almonds" There's something there"

"Alabama?" she exclaimed shaking her head "we're just friends"

"And that's often the best way to start" Jenna said winking as she took a mosaic glass bowl out of the cupboard.

"Is that how you started with Alaric?"

"Hardly, we met in nineteen eighty three. It was the era of punk rock and I was young and insatiable. He was a young idealist who thought his music could transform pop culture"

"That's beautiful"

"We've been together for fifteen years" she said pausing briefly as if the magnitude of their relationship had suddenly hit her. She looked down at her hand clasped around the large wooden spoon, her eyes seemingly fixed on her antique wedding ring. Looking up, Bonnie saw Damon standing in the doorway looking like a rain-drenched Jack of hearts. His cerulean blue eyes seemed to sparkle against the engraved turquoise tiles on the kitchen walls.

"Here, hold her for me "Jenna told Damon as she handed him the baby "I promise she won't bite" she assured him, patting him on the back and winking at a perplexed Bonnie before exiting the kitchen.

"Help!" he whined struggling to hold the flailing child.

"No way, you're on your own" Bonnie laughed mixing green beans into the salad "how can you be awkward around babies, I thought you said you practically raised your brother"

He looked up at her with a furrowed brow and she knew that she was crossing the line. His brother and his Alabama were things he did not feel comfortable discussing with her.

"Stephan wasn't quite so stinky" he finally said crinkling his nose and holding the baby out, amused by the wiggle of her little arms and legs.

"So, he's name is Stephan?" Bonnie asked, hesitating with her chopping and crushing of pungent coriander.

Damon smiled down at the baby, still holding her at arm's length.

"You got any sisters or brothers?" he asked not looking up at Bonnie.

"No, I was raised by my grams" she replied, her voice sounding throatier than she had intended. She cleared her throat and poured a hefty amount of burgundy red wine into a bejewelled glass goblet.

"She was a music teacher," she croaked before taking a guzzle from the shimmering wine "she died from cancer a few years ago, I sold my cello after that" she stalled, shaking her head and wondering why she was sharing so much of herself with Damon.

"I'm sorry"

"There's just so uhm- many things I wish I'd... said to her before, you know…"

"Yeah, it was the same with my mom" his voice caught as he cradled the baby closer, cupping her head with his shaky hand.

They stood for a moment, looking at each other before Jenna breezed back into the kitchen, with her oldest daughter in tow.

###

They all dined outside, seated in cushioned wrought iron chairs around a long rustic wooden table overlooking a salt water pool. Safe under a canopy, they watched a steady rain fall on cypress trees and drum on the veranda. Bonnie's eyes drifted along the table and its boisterous guests, lingering on Damon time and time again.

**#**

Flashback

**#**

**The beast in me is caged by frail and fragile bars**

**-Johnny Cash**

**#**

_15 July 1986_

Alabama

Damon sat perched comfortably in the tree watching the front of the old farm as the sun-drenched parishioners from his mother's church trickled into the farmstead carrying baskets of corn and bruised apples, cast-offs from their own lush gardens. He'd always known his family was poor, he could tell by those grieving stares the folks gave him and his brother whenever they accompanied his mother into town. He'd hated those gawps so much that he once let loose an army of fire ants in the back row at church one Sunday.

He hadn't been to church since.

Damon was preparing his slingshot, teasing the rubber with a grooved nugget when he saw his little brother skipping toward him and the big tree.

"What ya doin Stephan?"he peered down at him.

"I'm fixing to climb up"

"Quit it, go back in the house, d'ye hear!"

"No"

"Quit it this instant!"

Stephan was never one to listen; quickly he gripped the rough bark of the tree with his soft hands then swung his tiny body around the trunk grasping the soles of his feet against the furrowed husk. Right foot, left foot, huffing until he was at least a quarter of the way on the big damn tree.

"Awww heck!" Damon cried scaling down a few branches to help his little brother.

"Easy now," Damon called as the sandy haired boy scampered up the tree, red-faced and wheezing. He waited; watching as Stephan struggled with each ascent and Damon's heart thudded faster when Stephan began to lose his grip on the weak bark.

"Damon!" Stephan cried as he hurled to the ground with such astonishing force that the ground cracked in a flurry of brown dust and smoke.

###

"You're useless Damon, useless!" his father spat as Damon struggled with him. Giuseppe used his hand to push away his face, smudging the blood across his son's crumpling face. Damon tore his eyes away from his father as Giuseppe backhanded him, hard and square across his face. Damon kicked, grappling toward the door before his father yanked him back effortlessly. Stephan was hunkered down in the dim alcove under the stove, quaking irrevocably.

The punches were all consuming, never ending and Damon crouched down, and knees pressed against his tight chest as his father hit him. He didn't mind taking it, he'd take it for his mother and he'd take it for Stephan.

He'd always known he was different from the rest of his family, where Giuseppe and Stephan were fair with chestnut eyes, he was dark with eyes the colour of a raging Mediterranean sea. Some nights after a long beating from his father, he'd toss and turn in his bed trying to figure out the root of his father's hate and rage toward him. He never could but he'd hear the hushed rumours from those colourfully cheerful ladies by the sweetshop after school, Damon Salvatore was not Giuseppe's son.

He never believed them.

Later that evening as he lay in his lumpy bed, sapped and swollen, he listened to Stephan's uneven breathing in the bed next to his. Damon vowed there and there to slay the monster as soon as he could construct the perfect slingshot.

**#**

**Maybe you're gonna be the one that saves me and after all, you're my wonderwall...**

**-Oasis **

Bass beats thumped behind her wall making the entire room vibrate. The loud voices and laughter were driving her crazy and she couldn't work, let alone think. The band had booked an entire floor of the elaborate hotel after a massive sold out night. The tour was going better than Bonnie had expected and with merrier crowds came merrier groupies. She was about to dive into bed and cover her ears with at least four pillows when the heard the loud bang on her door.

Flinging the door open, Damon slammed against it in a stagger before he drew back to rake a hand through his tousled hair. Bonnie's heart raced as she tried to steady herself.

"Damon, "she croaked, her cheeks turning scarlet "What do you want?"

"Here, "he grinned, leaning into the wide door "put this on" he added handing her a red silk scarf. Bonnie looked up at him trying to figure out why the hell he was standing outside her door at three in the morning when the rest of his crew was busy gyrating with random girls in the various party rooms.

"It's a blindfold, dummy" he smirked yanking the cloth from her hands and turning her around so that his chest was pressed against her back.

"What are you doing?"

"Shhh…" his whisper was a heated dance against her cheek, simmering down to her quivering neck" it's a surprise, you'll have to trust me" he said as he tied a lose knot behind her head. For the briefest of moments, Bonnie sank against him, feeling the warmth of his chest and the pound of his hammering heartbeat against her back. The instant passed and was confounded by a bigger one when he took her hand in his and led her out of the door into the long passage. She could map out the dim lights of the hallway behind her blindfold as she followed him to the exit doors and up the fire escape.

Finally he removed her blindfold, carefully peeling it from her eyes. Bonnie blinked a few times as her eyes focused on the new sphere around them. They were ankle deep in a sea of snow-white rose petals, a few scattering and flying off in the wind. Bonnie watched, entranced as soft petals swirled around them, falling on her face and into her tousled hair. Her eyes coasted to the blanket in the middle of the roof, candles swaying in the evening wind.

"Damon," she began as her voice quivered "this is uhm…this…"

"Don't worry, "he smiled crossing his fingers, "it's purely platonic"

"I wanted to bring you a bit of New York, that's all" he said ushering her to the plaid picnic blanket fretting in the wind.

"New York?" her brow vaulted as she scanned the silver beer bucket, pizza boxes and napkins set on the blanket.

"The best pizza in New York, Joe and Pat's in –"

"Staten island" they spoke at the same time.

"Jinx, you owe me a soda" she laughed and Damon opened his mouth to speak but snapped it shut again. Bonnie gazed at him with wide eyes, she was grinning so hard her face began to hurt.

They took their dripping pizza slices and cold beer to the edge of the roof where Chicago lay before them, a crackling neon fire.

"And the roses?" her eyes cruised to the whirl of petals blowing around them, soaring into the night sky like exotic moths "Seasons tickets to the Knicks would have done it for me"

"Think of it as a…white Christmas in New York" he chuckled, long legs swinging over the roof edge tickling the railing.

"A Christmas with beer and pizza?"

"But of course"

"There's just one thing missing, "he said fishing a scrap of withered mistletoe from his back pocket.

"You_ are_ persistent"

"Come on, Santa's had me on his nice list all year"

"You promise not to kiss me back?"

"Scouts honour" he grinned squeezing his eyes shut. Bonnie inched closer to him, gently cupping his bristled chin in her hand, titling his face up toward her. She swallowed hard feeling the rapid beat of her heart as she closed her eyes. It felt like a whole swarm of butterflies was fluttering around them as the white petals spun in the icy cold air tickling their cheeks and falling into their hair. After an eternity, her lips brushed his, a fleeting whirr like the flutter of broken wings. Bonnie bit her lip, tasting the ephemeral spell before she drew back and pressed her forehead against his.

Her breath hitched as Chicago drowned in the sounds of their pounding hearts and elevated breathing. The city buzzed, the air hissed and Damon's eyes fluttered open only to trace her reddened lips.

"You're trembling" he murmured, cupping both hands around her nape before he kissed her again. His kiss had no beginning, no end; it was an infinite flutter of the thousand butterflies spinning inside her heaving chest. The fire in her belly spread, rising higher and higher until everything around them caught in their spirited flame.

**#**

**Damon's POV**

She played the yin pretty convincingly. She was the push to his pull, always unaware of the agitation it caused him when she vaulted an eyebrow every time he tried to get closer to her. It felt like the kiss had been a fluke, some psychedelic dream he'd had one evening sitting on a rooftop in windy Chicago.

"Things are not going to be awkward between us, right Alabama?" she pressed, her form dancing like a mirage in that brilliant Nevada sunlight.

"Don't see why it should be" Damon lurched to his feet, staggering to the balcony to get closer to her again.

"I mean it was just a kiss, it meant nothing"

"Yeah, nothing at all"

The New Yorker in him wanted to throw in the towel, seek alternative entertainment in Vegas but the Southerner in him bucked with tenacious zeal. Oh dear God, how he wanted her, how he craved her. There had been so much truth in her kiss, unapologetic fragility that had now dispersed with the hissing Nevada heat.

"I don't need you but I want you" he said, her gaze following his hand as it slid down her arm to her frail wrist. He traced a circle along her palm, gliding back up to her wildly beating pulse. "And I'm praying that_ want_ grows to need very soon"

"I like you and I know you like me liking you" he continued, not waiting for a response. He drew her closer with a tiny tug of her wrist and whispered against her ear. "It makes your eyes spark, this knowing that I want you"

She opened her mouth to protest, he guessed but he quickly hushed her.

"No yesterdays, no tomorrows, just here and now" he said tracing her parted lips. Nothing else mattered but kissing her in that instance, he was so close as she stared into his eyes but Damon held back. _She_ had to want him or at least need him.

"Lose yourself in the now, lose yourself in us" he said holding her face warm and steady in his hands "Bonnie…Evergreen" his eyes danced on her, a lazy beat to counter his heartbeat.

"No, Damon" She shook her head, prying his warm hands from her face. He held his breath for the longest of moments before he let it out. He felt her move, saw her run from the corner of his eye but he dared not look up lest it was real and she was running out on him. Damon blinked out at the blazing sun that singed his eyes. He wanted to make that call for some Las Vegas entertainment as soon as she left but he knew he wouldn't, he couldn't.

The Alabama moon would soon fall out of the big damn sky before he'd give up on her. He ached for her, even now with her sandalwood perfume lingering in his hotel room.

**#**

The rioting butterflies in Bonnie's chest had grown into big black magpies, wings beating heavily and tearing her up inside lest she burst down his door and crash into him.

Suddenly everything felt so all consuming, her standing outside that damn door, face pressed to the cold trunk of its maple wood. Her fingers traced its polished timber before clenching into weak quivering fists that rested on the wood. She wanted to knock; crash and break down his door. She wanted to feel what she had felt back in Chicago. Pressing her quaking body to the door, her hankering ignited and her fist hammered against the lumber, a deafening aching plea until the door flew open. The rush of flapping wings grew louder inside her as she crashed into him, respiration forgotten as she sank into Damon's unbridled kiss.


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: Thank you to everyone who has been following this fic. I'm so grateful for all the feedback and support. **

**#**

**I don't wanna lose you, don't even own you. I just wanna stay here, until never dawns.**

**-Corinne Bailey Rae**

**#**

Bonnie yanked her mouth from Damon's, her hand flying to his parted lips, clamping tightly over his mouth. She couldn't betray _him_, she couldn't betray Kol. This, everything that she was suddenly feeling, this wildfire, this new maddening rhythm that was altering her rattling bones, changing their tenor, this, him, his lips. He was gasoline.

"Bonnie!" he called as she bolted, running from his room again.

She bounded down the hallway littered with room service trays, hurdling over a room service cart that had tipped over in the middle of the long passage. Sprinting past security, she kept her head down, hair swung over her face and she had to remind herself that she had done nothing wrong.

She was free and single.

The All access tag suddenly felt heavy around her neck. She wasn't betraying Kol, how could she betray him when they were no longer together. Bonnie dashed through the casino, past a labyrinth of high pitched slot machines, staggering gamblers collecting their winnings from cashiers and hissing roulette wheels. She forced her finger on the button for the eighteenth floor, hitting it repeatedly. Come on. Come on. Her heart was punching at the wall of her tight chest, a stampede that was cutting off her air supply. She couldn't breathe, couldn't think and then as the elevator doors began to close, someone jammed his foot in the opening, prying the doors open with his hands.

"Damon"

He stood there, chest heaving, cheeks flaming and fists clenched at his side. Bonnie retreated until the wall behind her collided with her back. Stepping inside, the doors closed behind him and he stalked the edge of the elevator like an animal circling its prey. Finally, he was hovering over her, his hands placed on either side of her head.

"You're a coward "he said with a lowly growl.

"I'm not a coward" Bonnie thrust out her chin, digging her heels into the soft carpet beneath their feet.

"Prove it,' he said scathingly brushing a strand of hair from her flushed face, she gasped back a shaky whimper as his fingertips grazed her neck.

"Stop it!" she screamed pushing him back" I don't have to prove anything to you Damon"

"Not to me' He came again, pressing closer to her, so close that his breath fanned her neck "prove it to yourself" One hand cradled the back of her head, pushing her against the wall, the other groped for her belt, pulling her hips toward him.

"Stop it!" she pressed her hands against his chest and pushed him back again but he bounded for her all over again, a renewed glint in his eyes.

"Let it go," he muttered burying his face in her tousled hair. His hand cupped her chin, angled her face toward his and he studied her wild eyes "this fear of wanting something you think you shouldn't be wanting" he murmured, questing to her hips, his hands pulled her closer "Finish what you started Bonnie"

He guided her unsteady hands around his neck, her fingers looped around the soft, tangled hair at the nape of his neck.

"Stop it!" she cried again, regaining what little composure she had left but he relented, anchored to the spot taking her strikes and feeding off them.

"Bonnie-"he began as he drew back before she bucked up, grasping him by the front of his shirt, she yanked him toward her with such great force that his chest slammed against her breasts. Everything thumped around her, her rioting pulse pounding inside every single inch of her as she kissed him, open mouth, tangled fingers and gasping inhales.

Bonnie fisted her hands in his hair, urging him deeper into her mouth, revelling in the heated strokes of his chasing tongue and the nips of his teeth. She felt his arm snake around her back, his warm hand under her shirt, calloused fingers hot against her spine. The universe, the elevator, everything was off balance, the world spinning off its axis; she latched on tighter to him, firmer, riding the ripple of their kiss.

No gravity.

No air.

No sound.

She was falling.

#

Once upon a time, a bad girl had a maddening love affair with rock n roll. It wasn't the soft flutter of quaking wings but rather the ripple of the entire universe. The fire in their kisses devoured them, burned them clean.

With Damon she felt free, she thought watching him strum his guitar as he sat on a bar stool, his back to the waking sun. In that acid yellow light, the needle marks on his arms disappeared into a blazing silver. He dropped his head, fidgeting with the strings before he looked up again, fingers raking his hair as a smile teased his lips.

Remnants of their dinner from last night was still scattered around the table-lobster shells, olive pits and bottles of beer. They were lazy, caught in a beautiful languid trance, strumming to the rhythm of their own lust song. Bonnie's hair spilled down in loose curls as she pulled off her tee-shirt.

"I could get used to this, "he smirked, his eyes roving over her body, her glossy brown skin "you in my bed, whenever, however…"

"That's the plan" she smiled biting her bottom lip, beckoning him to her.

"You wouldn't tease a guy, would ya?" he smiled waggling his eyebrows, leaning down over her supine figure, his guitar long forgotten.

"You talk too much" she whispered dragging his face toward her, fingers woven into his dark hair and kissed him. Damon fisted his shirt, tugging it over his head "Why don't you just lie back and let me do all the work today?" he breathed against her warm mouth, his strong thighs straddling her slender thighs.

"And let you have all the fun?" she rolled him over, pinning his wrists down to the bed, fighting for position "to hell with that" she chuckled before grazing his neck with her teeth. Snarling, Damon swung himself over her again, pinning her hands on the bed. He was firm, hot and anxious with his kisses, chasing the heat and warmth of her tongue. Bonnie gasped, a husky titter escaping her lips when he dragged her denim down her squirming thighs.

"Ah-ah-ah, you forgetting something" she teased, pulling him up and kissing him again without hesitation. Painfully, he tore himself from her kiss, waggling his eyebrows as he plunged his hand inside the nightstand drawer. Dragging her teeth over his earlobe, nails scraping down his back, she was relentless in her exquisite ache for him.

They kissed again and again and again until Las Vegas was a blur of neon forest and flame.

#

In Boston, Damon knew he was addicted.

In the too bright, over-exposed Boston mornings, she was his adrenalin. She was his rapid heartbeat, the twitch in his muscles after that first sublime shot and he was hooked.

His warm breath teased her awake and Damon felt her move as her hair tickled his nose. He was numb, his arm and shoulder stiff from cradling her all night and he didn't care, he loved it. Bonnie's arm was still draped around his waist, her lush body warm against his.

"Morning" he murmured, brushing his nose along the soft line of her jaw, touching her cheek with his hair.

"Hmm, hey" Instinctively, she cupped a hand over her mouth "morning breath," she mumbled against her hand with a contagious grin.

"Yeah, you are kind of gamey," he smiled pinching her nose.

"I love this, being with you like this" she whispered, tracing her fingers along the jagged edges of his needle marks and Damon flinched. He felt naked when she did that to him, rousing his wound with her scorching angelic touch. She was far from a saint with her sailor mouth and tempestuous temper but she was his storm to chase and tame, she was his rock n roll to love and understand. She lay there breathing beside him, her hair a black tangled mess and her flesh warm in all that amber light flooding into the hotel room.

Suddenly her mobile phone rang from somewhere in the expansive hotel room with drawn blinds. He watched her as she ran across the room, rummaging through piles of things, laughing and searching for the source of that infuriating noise.

Damon laughed, launching a soft pillow at her. She dodged his weak attack, head thrown back in a body quaking laugh.

'Yeah!" she laughed into the phone. Damon heard the tapering of her beautiful laugh, saw the rush of blood creeping into her flushed cheeks, the slack in her shoulders, and the vigorous shake of her head. She tossed the phone on the littered table, staggering to find a seat to sink into. She was pale, all of her juddering.

"What's wrong?" he asked leaping from the rumpled bed.

"There's been an accident" she replied looked ashen, gingerly covering herself with a nearby throw "it's Kol" she said meekly. Damon moved so fast that by the time she choked her first tear, he was there, arms draped around her shivering body as Bonnie began to cry.


	16. Chapter 16

**Your words are the blanket that keeps me warm,**

**When the night is cold enough to break me**

**-Sleeping at Last**

**#**

Bonnie watched him sleep, saw the rise and fall of his chest, the gentle flutter of his long eyelashes. Her eyes drifted to the IV's strapped to his arms, the beeping monitors and her heart pounded faster.

'Kol," she whimpered, her fingers flying to her quivering lips.

Her fingertips traced the bandaged scar running down the left side of his injured face, trailed along every swell and mark on his face, his nose, his marred lips.

"What happened to him?" she asked Caroline as the other woman circled the bed, hand clutching her handbag.

"Drunk driver, the other guy wasn't so lucky" Caroline said glancing at Damon, her eyebrows furrowed" Elijah and Hayley were here earlier" she added, her eyes rushing back to Bonnie.

"He looks so peaceful, "Bonnie whispered, leaning down to kiss Kol's clammy forehead and she could almost feel Damon wince from across the room, his breath hastening.

"Thank you, "she told Caroline.

"I know he would've wanted you here" she nodded, her lips curling into a wry smile "I have to get back to Benaroya hall for rehearsals."

"Ok" Bonnie nodded glimpsing up at the blonde "I'll take care of him"

As soon as Caroline lumbered out of the room, Damon was by Bonnie's side, his eyes dancing on her weary face.

"Can I get you anything? "He asked, his fingers brushing through her hair, lifting a tangerine leaf from her tangled curls.

"You don't have to be here Damon" she said, moving to a beige chair closer to the cot.

"And let you creepy sleep-watch piano man alone?" he said, his feet shuffling on the granite floor, eyes trying to hold hers steady and failing miserably He was stirring continuously, his eyes rushing from the door to her, to Kol and then back to her.

"Besides, I'm a sucker for threesomes" his smirk was shy and hesitant.

They were both quiet, listening to the steady peep of the monitor, the announcements through the hospital intercom, rushing winds outside the window and clatter of shoes along the corridor. Damon kept leaving the room to get them coffee, bitter ink black coffee and crackers and whenever he came back, she found herself smiling patiently.

Bonnie didn't leave Kol's side, she didn't want to and so Damon didn't leave _her_ side even though she protested against his awkward presence. She objected to their clumsy silence, his erratic pacing as he circled the room, hands dug deep into his pockets but a part of her found a strange comfort in his company.

##

Later, she was in Damon's bed, his fingers threading into her dark hair and her hand flat against his hard chest. It had felt odd leaving Kol there, alone in that hospital bed. If she could, she would've taken a cot next to his, been there when he woke up whenever that may be but she wasn't sure if he would have wanted her there beside him. She pressed her cheek against Damon chest and listening to his hammering heartbeat. His heaving chest mimicked his breathing apartment, old groaning pipes and creaking floorboards. His breathing was the lullaby that swayed her to sleep, wrapped up in his rocking arms. She shut her eyes and tried very hard not to think about Kol again.

#

Damon hated hospitals, loathed the cloying acrid smell of sick people and their medicine. It reminded him of his mother, trapped inside that stuffy bedroom at the farm, sick from her own sour smell.

He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the far wall, silver balloons dancing in front of his face. He watched her; she was a flicker of jittering lights, a blur of green neon with her John Lennon tee-shirt in the stark white hospital room.

It was day four and he was back in the infirmary observing her as she watched Kol. Damon didn't like the way her body angled towards piano man, the way her fingers tangled in his muddy blonde hair or the way her other hand was grasping the man's hand. He hated the insistent thud of his heart whenever she picked up Kol's hand to squeeze it.

_Quit it Damon_, he scolded himself. He was starting to behave like a rabid dog around a fire hydrant, marking his territory. _Bonnie is not yours,_ he told himself, _she doesn't belong to anyone and she's no damn fire hydrant. _

Bonnie toyed with his Kol's hair, fingers coiled around different strands, her eyes fixed on him, waiting for any flicker of movement. Damon flinched every time she did that to Kol, lips pressed as he tried to steal her hand away from Kol's. Damon laced her fingers through her fingers and she turned to smile back at him.

He had gone to acquire more of that bitter cold coffee the hospital served, preparing to punish himself by watching her with Kol again when he stopped short at the door.

"He's awake" Bonnie called, lurching to her feet and leaning over Kol 'Damon-"she laughed glancing up at him. This time Damon didn't laugh with her because he knew her giddy smile and heady laughter were not meant for him. They were meant for the bruised man that had suddenly awoken from his too brief coma.

"Yeah, I'll get a doctor" he said soberly as she cradled Kol's face, kissing the top of his head. Damon's knees almost buckled when he finally moved, when he finally exhaled.

##

They waited outside the hospital room while the doctors examined Kol; the rest of the family had been summoned and was scattered around the waiting area. Elijah paced up and down the hallway, talking on his mobile phone while his wife thumbed through a tattered copy of _Persuasion._

"Hey," Damon said squeezing her stiff shoulder.

"Hey" Bonnie replied, smiling vacantly and watching as Hayley stabbed out her cigarette, oblivious to the big no smoking sign hanging above them. Damon's hand quested down to her hand, his fingers laced with hers, palm against palm, beating pulse against beating pulse.

They were all on full alert as the doctor marched down toward them, white coat beating from his urgent steps. Damon could feel Bonnie's nerves as she clenched his hand tighter.

"You can see him now" the doctor announced and Damon stood up when Bonnie stood, his hand still locked in hers" and keep it brief. He's still tired"

Everybody moved gradually toward Kol's room and Bonnie trailed behind, her hand still clasped around Damon's, her breath heavy and anxious. Damon knew what she wanted, what she needed, he didn't need to look at her to know what she was thinking.

"Bonnie" Elijah held out his hand as he beckoned her to walk with them.

Just like that, she tore free from him, bolting down the corridor and Damon waited, waited for her to glance back, waited for her to toss her hair over her shoulder and smile at him, wave at him.

He waited.

Nothing.


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: I'm sorry I took forever to update this fic guys but this one takes a lot out of me emotionally because I'm so invested in their journey. **

_After experiencing a car accident (not serious) a few days ago, I thought it was kismet that I should include Kol's POV in this fic. It is after all meant to be somewhat of a love triangle; even I don't know who she will end up with as the characters are dictating that direction. It will also heighten the drama a little bit (I hope) and bring a new energy to the story._

#

**Build a new silhouette, the skyline is up ahead**

**-Sleeping at Last **

**#**

_This wasn't a rehearsal._

He was here even though he was not quite present.

Everything moved so gradually, gliding in reverse.

_You cannot recreate such a masterpiece,_ he thought as he began his solo, a fluid spin where he lived on in wailing cellos and screeching wheels. His arms lifted, head snapping back as if he was a conducting an orchestra under the ocean. There were no notes; no fingers striking ivory keys, there were just the pauses between the notes, the lyrics of his limbs as he crashed into glass.

The patterns and the mathematics of it were so precise. He had calculated this moment the instant he had seen the other automobile approaching from his left without yielding. Kol had calculated the pause that never came, a great miscalculation on his part. Intricate patterns, theories and arithmetic were never his strong points and now he finally understood the why. He was a creature of chaos, an artist and a musician.

The patterns gathered, repeated themselves and called on to fate and destiny. Kol's hands abandoned the steering wheel, strumming the noiseless air in reverse.

Suddenly, he was deaf to the melody and then came the crack and crunch of cold hard metal.

#

He was drowning in_ her_ need for him.

At least that's what Kol told himself as he watched Bonnie worry the firewood between her soft hands. She wore the sunlight well; gold light teasing the coils of her tangled hair and it seemed to bounce around her. She brought everything around her to life, sparks of light flying off in every direction.

"What did you bring me today?" he investigated, the flicker in his brown eyes chasing her new silver bracelet. He hurried past the charms dangling from it, the electric guitar, the skull and what appeared to be a small silver barnyard.

"Look at you; you're like a kid on Christmas day!" Bonnie chuckled glancing up at him and her unbearable smile caught the light again. She tossed a log into the vast fireplace, the burnt smell of wet wood chased his senses and motes of swept dust still filled the air around them.

"Ouch" she winced, stabbing her finger on a sharp splinter and Kol wheeled himself to her side in a flash. Without thinking, he snatched her finger and pressed it to his lips, softly nipping her soft skin between his teeth. It took Bonnie a while to realize what was happening and in a blink, she snatched her hand away from his grasp.

'Kol, you can't-"he heard her breath suck and hold, felt the tremor in her tiny gasp.

"I apologise, you hurt yourself and I reacted"

"Well, don't re-act again" her voice was shaky, the bright flames spurted in the fireplace and the brittle firewood broke around the fire. Suddenly, the space around them sagged, heavy and very still. Kol heard the overreaching branches slap the French doors, gusts of wet wind swishing russet leaves around the courtyard.

"I make no promises" he whispered, holding her gaze. "You could have burnt yourself, darling"

"Thank you" she stole her hand away, her eyes looking everywhere else but at him.

"We should put a bandage on that"

"It's only a flesh wound"

"Sometimes those are the worst kind"

"I'll be alright" she pushed back her hair, her cheeks burning scarlet against her green sweater. For a moment Kol was caught between the green of her sweater and the glimmering emerald of her eyes.

"Thank you for being here, thank you for taking care of me" he finally confessed, his mouth felt fat and heavy.

"What are ex- girlfriends' for?" she cleared her throat before she cracked him a smile, one of those unbearable ones, the ones that broke his heart.

"I brought you the first season of Twin Peaks" she said cheerfully, rising to her feet and rushing to her messenger bag.

"Will you be watching it with me?" he smiled, caught in the dappled light of the massive lounge, caught in the lights and shadows that raced her bare feet as they tapped against the floorboards.

"Kol" she said playfully, tossing her hair back over her shoulder to laugh with him, or rather at him.

He had missed that move, that hair thing she did.

"It's no fun if I have no one to watch it with me" he grinned, harmlessly like a tiger baring its teeth.

"You have Berta, your highly qualified nurse"

"You want me to watch a sexy show with a nurse called Big Berta?" he quipped "have you seen Berta's cankles and her moustache?" he chuckled, wanting to seize her hand. "Where's the justice in that?"

She giggled, pushing his heart against his chest with every silvery titter.

Car crashes must have been the universal language that allowed people to converse with each other because she was here with him now and everything was crystal clear for him.

"Stay" his voice gripped his throat, a crackling burn.

"You always get what you want, don't you?" she rolled those eyes, crossed her arms against her chest and did that hair thing again. She was toying with him, punishing him. Why else was she here if not to punish him.

"Yes. Stay" he insisted, straightening up in his wheelchair. Slowly he dragged the wheels along the hardwood floor to close the gap between them. Bonnie was enjoying herself too much, he thought.

"You're the proverbial little rich boy"

"You've never called me spoilt before" he tilted his head, observing her through dusky eyes.

"I've never noticed before" her eyes wavered, leaping toward the endless staircase leading to the three empty bedrooms upstairs.

"Stop making excuses. Stay"

"I see you also dipped into the trust fund" she replied coolly, her eyes continuing their angry voyage, tumbling over his new baby grand piano, the twinkling chandelier above them and the heavy open drapes.

"Daddy had to fund something now, didn't he?" he replied scornfully.

"I need to go" she announced grabbing her things, forcefully stuffing the Twin Peaks DVD in his limp hand.

"Do you love him?" Kol's bark echoed in the massive house following her as she rushed for the glass door. Bonnie hesitated and outside the wind shrieked, rain and wind cutting everything around it.

"Who?" she asked, breathing hard and fast.

"Come on, darling" he smirked, wheelchair lingering in the middle of the imposing room "don't do that. Do you love _him_?"

"Yes. I love him" she flung the words at him then speedily charged out the door leaving only the squeal of floor boards and startled fire.

Kol had lied to himself; he wasn't drowning in _her_ need for him. It was he who needed, he who had depended on her kindness for so long. He didn't know how to exist without it.

He loved her and only her. It seemed like all his life he had loved her.

#

Damon's truck rattled in the driveway, its engine heating up. Shoulders hunched against the drizzling rain, Bonnie jogged to him and he opened the door for her. She stuffed herself in the passenger seat before reaching her hand over to the driver's side to open the door for him.

"You don't have to keep doing this"

"Doing what Bon" he smirked, combing wet fingers through wet raven hair.

"Dropping me off me and picking me up" she replied, placing her hands in front of the heater. It wasn't warm like the fire had been inside Kol's house. It was a sombre heat, dim, muddled with saw dust and dank smells.

"I want to"

"Kol won't bite me" she said before she turned to look at him and then his blue blue eyes compelled her, sucked her in breaking the magpies lose inside her belly.

"It's not his bite that I'm worried about" he waggled his eyebrows and she laughed nudging him with her elbow.

"Damon, are you jealous?"

"Let's just say, should anything happen," he paused, a flicker in dusty blue eyes "I'll huff and puff and blow his whole house down"

"You have nothing to worry about. I'm right here" she grinned, drew his face to her and kissed him.

Bonnie had no need for Damon's dry dusty car heater; she had the living breathing fire of his kiss.

"Funny weather, "Damon said, pulling out of the gravel driveway "sun and rain all at once"


End file.
